COSMO   AND   LADY   JOAN   CLIMBING. 


WARLOCK 
O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

A  HOMELY  ROMANCE. 


BY 

George    MacDonald, 

AUTHOR    OF    "ANNALS   OF  A  QUIET   NEIGHBORHOOD,"   "A   SEA- 
BOARD  PARISH,"   ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 
GEORGE  ROUTLEDGE  &  SONS 

9  LAFAYETTE  PLACE. 


Copyright,    i88i, 
By  D.  Lothrop  &  Company. 


IN  MEMORIAM 


MAf/0 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter. 

I  —  Castle  Warlock 
2— The    Kitchen 

3  —  The  Drawing-room 

4  —  An  Afternoon  Sleep 
5 —  The  School    . 

6  —  Grannie's   Cottage 

7  —  Dreams  .         .         • 

5  —  Home     .         .         . 
9 —  The  Student  . 

10  —  Peter  Simon  . 

11  —  The  new  Schooling 

12 — Grannie's  Ghost  Story 
13 — The  Storm-Guest  . 
1 4 —  The  Castle  Inn      . 
15— That  Night     . 

16  —  Through  the  Day  . 

17  —  That  same  Night  , 


Page. 

7 

19 

32 

43 

51 
60 

70 
89 

97 
112 
120 
130 

161 
181 
200 
244 


984412 


Contents. 


i8  — A  Winter  Idyl 

257 

19  —  An  "  Interlunar  Cave  "    . 

"    275 

20 — Catch  yer  Naig 

281 

21— The  Watchmaker  . 

287 

22  —  That  Luminous  Night     . 

304 

23  —  At  College      .         .        .   '     . 

315 

24  —  A  Tutorship   .         .         .         . 

328 

25 — The  Gardener 

355 

26  —  Lost  and  Found 

370 

27  —  A  Transformation  . 

381 

28  — The  Story  of  the  Knight  who 

spok( 

I  the 

Truth 

-      390 

29  —  New  Experience    . 

.      398 

30  —  Charles  Jermyn,  M.  D.  . 

402 

31  — Cosmo  and  the  Doctor 

411 

32  —  The  Naiad 

.      417 

33  —  The  Garden-House 

.      429 

34  —  Catch  your  Horse  . 

.      438 

35— Pull  his  Tail    ... 

.      442 

36  —  The  thick  Darkness 

.      452 

37  —  The  Dawn 

462 

38  —  The  Shadow  of  Death     . 

.       475 

39  —  The  Labourer 

.       485 

40  —  The  Schoolmaster  . 

.       502 

41  —  Grannie  and  the  Stick 

.       512 

42 — Obstruction     . 

.       518 

43  —  Grizzle's  Rights 

.       523 

44  —  Another  Harvest    . 

.      538 

Contents, 


V. 


45  — The  final  Conflict 

V  . 

552 

46  — A  Rest 

562 

47  — Help 

580 

48  —  A  common  Miracle 

592 

49  —  Defiance 

.      597 

50  —  Discovery  and  Confession 

605 

51  —  It  is  Naught  saith  the  Buyer 

615 

52 — An  old  Story    . 

627 

53  —  A  small  Discovery  .      -  . 

632 

54 — A  greater  Discovery 

640 

55 — A  great  Discovery  . 

.      646 

56  —  Mr.  Burns 

.      656 

57 — Too  Sure  comes  too  late 

662 

58  —  A  little  Life  well  rounded 

666 

59  —  A  Breaking  Up 

.      673 

60  —  Repose           ... 

685 

61  —The  third  Harvest 

691 

62  —  A  Duet,  Trio,  and  Quartette 

698 

Warlock  o'  Glenwarlock. 


CHAPTER     I. 


CASTLE      WARLOCK. 


A  rough,  wild  glen  it  was,  to  which,  far  back  in 
times  unknown  to  its  annals,  the  family  had  given  its 
name,  taking  in  return  no  small  portion  of  its  history, 
and  a  good  deal  of  the  character  of  its  individuals. 
It  lay  in  the  debatable  land  between  highlands  and 
lowlands ;  most  of  its  inhabitants  spoke  both  Scotch 
and  Gaelic ;  and  there  was  often  to  be  found  in  them 
a  notable  mingling  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  the 
widely  differing  Celt  and  Teuton.  The  country  pro- 
duced more  barley  than  wheat,  more  oats  than  barley, 
more  heather  than  oats,  more  boulders  than  trees, 
and  more  snow  than  anything.  It  was  a  solitary, 
thinly  peopled  region,  mostly  of  bare  hills,  and  par- 
tially cultivated  glens,  each  with  its  small  stream,  on 
the  banks  of  which  grew  here  and  there  a  silver  birch. 


WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


a  mountain  ash,  or  an  alder  tree,  but  with  nothing 
capable  of  giving  much  shade  or  shelter,  save  cliffy 
banks  and  big  stones.  From  many  a  spot  you  might 
look  in  all  directions  and  not  see  a  sign  of  human  or 
any  other  habitation.  Even  then  however,  you  might, 
to  be  sure,  most  likely  smell  the  perfume  —  to  some 
nostrils  it  is  nothing  less  than  perfume  —  of  a  peat 
fire,  although  you  might  be  long  in  finding  out  whence 
it  came  ;  for  the  houses,  if  indeed  the  dwellings  could 
be  called  houses,  were  often  so  hard  to  be  distin- 
guished from  the  ground  on  which  they  were  built, 
that  except  the  smoke  of  fresh  peats  were  coming 
pretty  freely  from  the  wide-mouthed  chimney,  it  re- 
(jhireci  an  experienced  eye  to  discover  the  human 
nest.  The  valleys  that  opened  northward  produced 
little ;  there  the  snow  might  some  years  be  seen  lying 
on  patches  of  oats  yet  green,  destined  now  only  for 
fodder ;  but  where  the  valley  ran  east  and  west,  and 
any  tolerable  ground  looked  to  the  south,  there  things 
put  on  a  different  aspect.  There  the  graceful  oats 
would  wave  and  rustle  in  the  ripening  wind,  and  in 
the  small  gardens  would  lurk  a  few  cherished  straw- 
berries, while  potatoes  and  peas  would  be  tolerably 
plentiful  in  their  season. 

Upon  a  natural  terrace  in  such  a  slope  to  the  south, 
stood  Castle  Warlock.  But  it  turned  no  smiling  face 
to  the  region  whence  came  the  warmth  and  the  growth. 
A  more  grim,  repellant,  unlovely  building  would  be 
hard  to  find ;  and  yet,  from  its  extreme  simplicity,  its 
utter  indifference  to  its  own  looks,  its  repose,  its 
weight,  and  its  gray  historical  consciousness,  no  one 
who  loved  houses  would  have  thought  of  calling  it 


CASTLE    WARLOCK. 


Ugly.  It  was  like  the  hard-featured  face  of  a  Scotch 
matron,  suggesting  no  end  of  story,  of  life,  of  char- 
acter :  she  holds  a  defensive  if  not  defiant  face  to  the 
world,  but  within  she  is  warm,  tending  carefully  the 
fires  of  life.  Summer  and  winter  the  chimneys  of 
that  desolate-looking  house  smoked ;  for  though  the 
country'  was  inclement,  and  the  people  that  lived  in  it 
were  poor,  the  great,  sullen,  almost  unhappy-looking 
hills  held  clasped  to  their  bare  cold  bosoms,  exposed 
to  all  the  bitterness  of  freezing  winds  and  summer 
hail,  the  warmth  of  household  centuries :  their  peat- 
bogs were  the  store-closets  and  wine-cellars  of  the 
sun,  for  the  hoarded  elixir  of  physical  life.  And  al- 
though the  walls  of  the  castle,  as  it  was  called,  were 
so  thick  that  in  winter  they  kept  the  warmth  generated 
within  them  from  wandering  out  and  being  lost  on  the 
awful  wastes  of  homeless  hillside  and  moor,  they  also 
prevented  the  brief  summer  heat  of  the  wav-faring  sun 
from  entering  with  freedom,  and  hence  the  fires  were 
needful  in  the  summer  days  as  well  —  at  least  at  the 
time  my  stor}'  commences,  for  then,  as  generally,  there 
were  elderly  and  aged  people  in  the  house,  who  had 
to  help  their  souls  to  keep  their  bodies  warm. 

The  house  was  very  old.  It  had  been  built  for 
more  kinds  of  shelter  than  need  to  be  thought  of  in 
our  days.  For  the  enemies  of  our  ancestors  were  not 
only  the  cold,  and  the  fierce  wind,  and  the  rain,  and 
the  snow;  they  were  men  also  —  enemies  harder  to 
keep  out  than  the  raging  storm  or  the  creeping  frost. 
Hence  the  more  hospitable  a  house  could  be,  the  less 
must  it  look  what  it  was :  it  must  wear  its  face 
haughty,  and  turn  its  smiles   inward.     The  house  of 


lO  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Glenwarlock,  as  it  was  also  sometimes  called,  con- 
sisted of  three  massive,  narrow,  tall  blocks  of  build- 
ing, which  showed  little  connection  with  each  other 
beyond  juxtaposition,  two  of  them  standing  end  to  end, 
with  but  a  few  feet  of  space  between,  and  the  third  at 
right  angles  to  the  two.  In  the  two  which  stood  end 
to  end,  and  were  originally  the  principal  parts, 
hardly  any  windows  were  to  be  seen  on  the  side  that 
looked  out  into  the  valley ;  while  in  the  third,  which, 
though  looking  much  of  the  same  age,  was  of  later 
build,  were  more  windows,  but  none  in  the  lowest 
story.  Narrow  as  were  these  buildings,  and  four 
stories  high,  they  had  a  solid,  ponderous  look,  suggest- 
ing a  thickness  of  the  walls  such  as  to  leave  little  of 
a  hollow  within  for  the  indwellers  —  like  great  marine 
shells  for  a  small  mollusk.  On  the  other  side  was  a 
kind  of  a  court,  completed  by  the  stables  and  cow- 
houses, and  towards  this  court  were  most  of  the  win- 
dows—  many  of  them  for  size  more  like  those  in  the 
cottages  around,  than  suggestive  of  a  house  built  by 
the  lords  of  the  soil.  The  court  was  now  merely 
that  of  a  farmyard. 

There  must  have  been  at  one  time  outer  defences 
to  the  castle,  but  they  were  no  longer  to  be  distin- 
guished by  the  inexperienced  eye ;  and  indeed  the 
windowless  walls  of  the  house  itself  seemed  strong 
enough  to  repel  any  attack  without  artillery — except 
indeed  the  assailants  had  got  into  the  court.  There 
were  however  some  signs  of  the  windows  there  having 
been  enlarged  if  not  increased  at  a  later  period. 

In  the  block  that  stood  angle-wise  to  the  rest,  was 
the' kitchen,  the  door  of  which  opened  immediately  on 


CASTLE    WARLOCK.  11 


the  court ;  and  behind  the  kitchen,  in  that  part 
which  had  no  windows  to  the  valley,  was  the  milk-cel- 
lar, as  they  called  the  dairy,  and  places  for  household 
storage.  A  rough  causeway  ran  along  the  foot  of  the 
walls,  connecting  the  doors  in  the  different  blocks. 
Of  these,  the  kitchen  door  for  the  most  part  stood 
open  :  sometimes  the  snow  would  be  coming  fast 
down  the  wide  chimney,  with  little  soft  hisses  in  the 
fire,  and  the  business  of  the  house  going  on  without 
a  thought  of  closing  it,  though  from  it  you  could  not 
have  seen  across  the  yard  for  the  falling  flakes. 

But  when  my  story  opens,  the  summer  held  the  old 
house  and  the  older  hills  in  its  embrace.  The  sun 
was  pouring  torrents  of  light  and  heat  into  the  valley, 
and  the  slopes  of  it  were  covered  with  green.  The 
bees  were  about,  contenting  themselves  with  the  flow- 
ers, while  the  heather  was  getting  ready  its  bloom  for 
them,  and  a  boy  of  fourteen  was  sitting  in  a  little  gar- 
den that  lay  like  a  dropped  belt  of  beauty  about  the 
feet  of  the  grim  old  walls.  This  was  on  the  other  side 
—  that  to  the  south,  parting  the  house  from  the  slope 
where  the  corn  began  —  now  with  the  ear  half-formed. 
The  boy  sat  on  a  big  stone,  which  once  must  have 
had  some  part  in  the  house  itself,  or  its  defences, 
but  which  he  had  never  known  except  as  a  seat  for 
himself.  His  back  leaned  against  the  hoary  wall, 
and  he  was  in  truth  meditating,  although  he  did  not 
look  as  if  he  were.  He  was  already  more  than  an 
incipient  philosopher,  though  he  could  not  yet  have 
put  into  recognizable  shape  the  thought  that  was  now 
passing  through  his  mind.  The  bees  wt:re  the  pri- 
mary but  not  the  main  subject  of  i:.     It  came  thus  : 


12  WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

he  thought  how  glad  the  bees  would  be  when  their 
crop  of  heather  was  ripe ;  then  he  thought  how  they 
preferred  the  heather  to  the  flowers ;  then,  that  the 
one  must  taste  nicer  to  them  than  the  other ;  and  last 
awoke  the  question  whether  their  taste  of  sweet  was 
the  same  as  his.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  if  their  honey 
is  sweet  to  them  with  the  same  sweetness  with  which 
it  is  sweet  to  me,  then  there  is  something  in  the 
make  of  the  bee  that's  the  same  with  the  make  of 
me ;  and  perhaps  then  a  man  might  some  day,  if 
he  wanted,  try  the  taste  of  being  a  bee  all  out  for 
a  little  while."  But  to  see  him,  nobody  would  have 
thought  he  was  doing  anything  but  basking  in  the 
sun.  The  scents  of  the  flowers  all  about  his  feet 
came  and  went  on  the  eddies  of  the  air,  paying  my 
lord  many  a  visit  in  his  antechamber,  his  brain  ; 
the  windy  noises  of  the  insects,  the  watery  noises 
of  the  pigeons,  the  noises  from  the  poultry  yard, 
the  song  of  the  mountain  river,  visited  him  also 
through  the  portals  of  his  ears ;  but  at  the  moment, 
the  boy  seemed  lost  in  the  mere  fundamental  satis- 
faction of  existence. 

Neither,  although  broad  summer  was  on  the  earth, 
and  all  the  hill-tops,  and  as  much  of  the  valleys  as 
their  shadows  did  not  hide,  were  bathed  in  sunlight, 
although  the  country  was  his  native  land,  and  he 
loved  it  with  the  love  of  his  country's  poets,  was 
the  consciousness  of  the  boy  free  from  a  certain 
strange  kind  of  trouble  connected  with,  if  not  re- 
sulting from  the  landscape  before  him.  A  Celt 
through  many  of  his  ancestors,  and  his  mother  in 
particular,  his  soul,  full  of  undefined  emotion,   was 


CASTLE    WARLOCK.  1 3 

aware  of  an  ever  recurring  impulse  to  song,  ever 
checked  and  broken,  ever  thrown  back  upon  itself. 
There  were  a  few  books  in  the  house,  amongst  them 
certain  volumes  of  verse — a  copy  of  Cowly,  whose 
notable  invocation  of  Light  he  had  instinctively  blun- 
dered upon ;  one  of  Milton  ;  the  translated  Ossian  ; 
Thomson's  Seasons  —  with  a  few  more  ;  and  from 
the  reading  of  these,  among  other  results,  had  arisen 
this  —  that,  in  the  midst  of  his  enjoyment  of  the 
world  around  him,  he  found  himself  every  now  and 
then  sighing  after  a  lovelier  nature  than  that  before 
his  eyes.  There  he  read  of  mountains,  if  not  wilder, 
yet  loftier  and  more  savage  than  his  own,  of  skies 
more  glorious,  of  forests  of  such  trees  as  he  knew 
only  from  one  or  two  old  engravings  in  the  house,  on 
which  he  looked  with  a  strange,  inexplicable  reverence : 
he  would  sometimes  wake  weeping  from  a  dream  of 
mountains,  or  of  tossing  waters.  Once  with  his 
waking  eyes  he  saw  a  mist  afar  off,  between  the  hills 
that  ramparted  the  horizon,  grow  rosy  after  the  sun 
was  down,  and  his  heart  filled  as  with  the  joy  of  a 
new  discovery.  Around  him,  it  is  true,  the  waters 
rushed  well  from  their  hills,  but  their  banks  had 
little  beauty.  Not  merely  did  the  want  of  trees  dis- 
tress him,  but  the  nature  of  their  channel ;  most  of 
them,  instead  of  rushing  through  rocks,  cut  their 
way  only  through  beds  of  rough  gravel,  and  their  bare 
surroundings  were  desolate  without  grandeur  —  al- 
most mean  to  eyes  that  had  not  yet  pierced  to  the 
soul  of  them.  Nor  had  he  yet  learned  to  admire 
the  lucent  brown  of  the  bog  waters.  There  seemed 
to   be  in  the  boy  a  strain   of  some  race  used  to  a 


14  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

richer  home ;  and  yet  all  the  time  the  frozen  regions 
of  the  north  drew  his  fancy  tenfold  more  than  Italy 
or  Egypt. 

His  name  was  Cosmo,  a  name  brought  from  Italy 
by  one  of  the  line  who  had  sold  his  sword  and  fought 
for  strangers.  Not  a  few  of  the  younger  branches  of 
the  family  had  followed  the  same  evil  profession, 
and  taken  foreign  pay  —  chiefly  from  poverty  and 
prejudice  combined,  but  not  a  little  in  some  cases 
from  the  inborn  love  of  fighting  that  seems  to  char- 
acterize the  Celt.  The  last  soldier  of  them  had 
served  the  East  India  Company  both  by  sea  and 
land :  tradition  more  than  hinted .  that  he  had 
chiefly  served  himself.  Since  then  the  heads  of  the 
house  had  been  peaceful  farmers  of  their  own  land, 
contriving  to  draw  what  to  many  farmers  nowadays 
would  seem  but  a  scanty  subsistence  from  an  estate 
which  had  dwindled  to  the  twentieth  part  of  what  it 
had  been  a  few  centuries  before,  though  even  then 
it  could  never  have  made  its  proprietor  rich  in  any- 
thing but  the  devotion  of  his  retainers. 

Growing  too  hot  between  the  sun  and  the  wall, 
Cosmo  rose,  and  passing  to  the  other  side  of  the 
house  beyond  the  court-yard,  and  crossing  a  certain 
heave  of  grass,  came  upon  one  unfailing  delight  in 
his  lot  —  a  preacher  whose  voice,  inarticulate,  it  is 
true,  had,  ever  since  he  was  born,  been  at  most  times 
louder  in  his  ear  than  any  other.  It  was  a  mountain 
stream,  which,  through  a  channel  of  rock,  such  as 
nearly  satisfied  his  most  fastidious  fancy,  went  roar- 
ing, rushing,  and  sometimes  thundering,  with  an 
arrow-like,  foamy  swiftness,  down    to    the    river  in 


GASTLE    WARLOCK. 


15 


the  glen  below.  The  rocks  were  very  dark,  and  the 
foam  stood  out  brilliant  against  them.  From  the  hill- 
top above,  it  came,  sloping  steep  from  far.  When 
you  looked  up,  it  seemed  to  come  flowing  from  the 
horizon  itself,  and  when  you  looked  down,  it  seemed 
to  have  suddenly  found  it  could  no  more  return  to  the 
upper  regions  it  had  left  too  high  behind  it,  and  in 
disgust  to  shoot  headlong  to  the  abyss.  There  was 
not  much  water  in  it  now,  but  plenty  to  make  a  joy- 
ous white  rush  through  the  deep-worn  brown  of  the 
rock  :  in  the  autumn  and  spring  it  came  down  glori- 
ously, dark  and  fierce,  as  if  it  sought  the  very  centre, 
wild  with  greed  after  an  absolute  rest. 

The  boy  stood  and  gazed,  as  was  his  custom.  Al- 
ways he  would  seek  this  endless  water  when  he  grew 
weary,  when  the  things  about  him  put  on  their  too 
ordinary  look.  Let  the  aspect  of  this  be  what  it 
might,  it  seemed  still  inspired  and  sent  forth  by  some 
essence  of  mystery  and  endless  possibility.  There 
was  in  him  an  unusual  combination  of  the  power  to 
read  the  hieroglyphic  internal  aspect  of  things,  and 
the  scientific  nature  that  bows  before  fact.  He  knew 
that  the  stream  was  in  its  second  stage  when  it  rose 
from  the  earth  and  rushed  past  the  house,  that  it  was 
gathered  first  from  the  great  ocean,  through  millions 
of  smallest  ducts,  up  to  the  reservoirs  of  the  sky, 
thence  to  descend  in  snows  and  rains,  and  wander 
down  and  up  through  the  veins  of  the  earth  ;  but  the 
sense  of  its  mystery  had  not  hitherto  begun  to  with- 
draw. Happily  for  him,  the  poetic  nature  was  not 
merely  predominant  in  him,  but  dominant,  sending 
Itself,  a  pervading  spirit,  through  the  science  that  else 


1 6  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

would  have  stifled  him.  Accepting  fact,  he  found 
nothing  in  its  outward  relations  by  which  a  man  can 
live,  any  more  than  by  bread  ;  but  this  poetic  nature, 
illuminating  it  as  with  the  polarized  ray,  revealed 
therein  more  life  and  richer  hope.  All  this  was  as 
yet  however  as  indefinite  as  it  was  operative  in  him, 
and  I  am  telling  of  him  what  he  could  not  have  told 
of  himself. 

He  stood  gazing  now  in  a  different  mood  from  any 
that  had  come  to  him  before  :  he  had  begun  to  find 
out  something  fresh  about  this  same  stream,  and  the 
life  in  his  own  heart  to  which  it  served  as  a  revealing 
phantasm.  He  recognized  that  what  in  the  stream 
had  drawn  him  from  earliest  childhood,  with  an  infi- 
nite pleasure,  was  the  vague  sense,  for  a  long  time  an 
ever  growing  one,  of  its  mystery  —  the  form  the 
infinite  first  takes  to  the  simplest  and  liveliest  hearts. 
It  was  because  it  was  always  flowing  that  he  loved 
it,  because  it  could  not  stop  :  whence  it  came  was 
utterly  unknown  to  him,  and  he  did  not  care  to  know. 
And  when  at  length  he  learned  that  it  came  flowing 
out  of  the  dark  hard  earth,  the  mystery  only  grew. 
He  imagined  a  wondrous  cavity  below  in  black  rock, 
where  it  gathered  and  gathered,  nobody  could  think 
how  —  not  coming  from  anywhere  else,  but  beginning 
just  there,  and  nowhere  beyond.  When,  later  on,  he 
had  to  shift  its  source,  and  carry  it  back  to  the  great 
sky,  it  was  no  less  marvellous,  and  more  lovely ;  it 
was  a  closer  binding  together  of  the  gentle  earth  and 
the  awful  withdrawing  heavens.  These  were  a  region 
of  endless  hopes,  and  ever  recurrent  despairs  :  that  his 
beloved,  an  earthly  finite  thing,  should  rise  there,  was 


CASTLE   WARLOCK.  1 7 

added  joy,  and  gave  a  mighty  hope  with  respect  to 
the  unknown  and  appalling.  But  from  the  sky,  he 
was  sent  back  to  the  earth  in  further  pursuit ;  for, 
whence  came  the  rain,  his  books  told  him,  but  from 
the  sea  ?  That  sea  he  had  read  of,  though  never  yet 
beheld,  and  he  knew  it  was  magnificent  in  its  might ; 
gladly  would  he  have  hailed  it  as  an  intermediate 
betwixt  the  sky  and  the  earth  —  so  to  have  the  sky 
come  first !  but,  alas  !  the  ocean  came  first  in  order. 
And  then,  worse  and  worse  !  how  was  the  ocean  fed 
but  from  his  loved  torrent  ?  How  was  the  sky  fed 
but  from  the  sea  ?  How  was  the  dark  fountain  fed 
but  from  the  sky  ?  How  was  the  torrent  fed  but  from 
the  fountain  ?  As  he  sat  in  the  hot  garden,  with  his 
back  against  the  old  gray  wall,  the  nest  of  his  fami- 
ly for  countless  generations,  with  the  scent  of  the 
flowers  in  his  nostrils,  and  the  sound  of  the  bees  in 
his  ears,  it  had  begun  to  dawn  upon  him  that  he  had 
lost  the  stream  of  his  childhood,  the  mysterious, 
infinite  idea  of  endless,  inexplicable,  original  birth, 
of  outflowing  because  of  essential  existence  within  ! 
There  was  no  production  any  more,  nothing  but  a 
mere  rushing  around,  like  the  ring-sea  of  Saturn,  in 
a  never  ending  circle  of  formal  change !  Like  a 
great  dish,  the  mighty  ocean  was  skimmed  in  parti- 
cles invisible,  which  were  gathered  aloft  into  sponges 
all  water  and  no  sponge  ;  and  from  this,  through 
many  an  airy,  many  an  earthy  channel,  deflowered 
of  its  mystery,  his  ancient,  self-producing  fountain  to 
a  holy  merry  river,  was  fed ^ only  fed!  He  grew 
very  sad,  and  well  he  might.     Moved  by  the  spring 


1 8  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

eternal  in  himself,  of  which  the  love  in  his  heart  was 
but  a  river-shape,  he  turned  away  from  the  deathened 
stream,  and  without  knowing  why,  sought  the  human 
elements  about  the  place. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE     KITCHEN. 


He  entered  the  wide  kitchen,  paved  with  large 
slabs  of  slate.  One  brilliant  gray-blue  spot  of  sun- 
light lay  on  the  floor.  It  came  through  a  small  win- 
dow to  the  east,  and  made  the  peat-fire  glow  red  by 
the  contrast.  Over  the  fire,  from  a  great  chain,  hung 
a  three-legged  pot,  in  which  something  was  slowly 
cooking.  Between  the  fire  and  the  sun-spot  lay  a  cat, 
content  with  fate  and  the  world.  At  the  corner  of 
the  fire  sat  an  old  lady,  in  a  chair  high-backed,  thick- 
padded,  and  covered  with  striped  stuff.  She  had 
her  back  to  the  window  that  looked  into  the  court, 
and  was  knitting  without  regarding  her  needles. 
This  was  Cosmo's  grandmother.  The  daughter  of  a 
small  laird  in  the  next  parish,  she  had  started  in  life 
with  an  overweening  sense  of  her  own  importance 
through  that  of  her  family,  nor  had  she  lived  long 
enough  to  get  rid  of  it.  I  fancy  she  had  clung  to  it 
the  more  that  from  the  time  of  her  marriage  nothing 
had  seemed  to  go  well  with  the  family  into  which  she 
19 


20  WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

had  married.  She  and  her  husband  had  struggled 
and  striven,  but  to  no  seeming  purpose ;  poverty  had 
drawn  its  meshes  closer  and  closer  around  them. 
They  had  but  one  son,  the  present  laird,  and  he  had 
succeeded  to  an  estate  yet  smaller  and  more  heavily 
encumbered.  To  all  appearance  he  must  leave  it  to 
Cosmo,  if  indeed  he  left  it,  in  no  better  condition. 
From  the  growing  fear  of  its  final  loss,  he  loved  the 
place  more  than  any  of  his  ancestors  had  loved  it,  and 
his  attachment  to  it  had  descended  yet  stronger  to  his 
son. 

But  although  Cosmo  the  elder  wrestled  and  fought 
against  encroaching  poverty,  and  with  little  success, 
he  had  never  forgot  small  rights  in  anxiety  to  be  rid 
of  large  claims.  What  man  could  he  did  to  keep 
his  poverty  from  bearing  hard  on  his  dependents,  and 
never  master  or  landlord  was  more  "beloved.  Such 
being  his  character  and  the  condition  of  his  affairs,  it 
is  not  very  surprising  that  he  should  have  passed 
middle  age  before  thinking  seriously  of  marriage. 
Nor  did  he  then  fall  in  love,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  phrase ;  he  reflected  with  himself  that  it  would  be 
cowardice  so  far  to  fear  poverty  as  to  run  the  boat  of 
the  Warlocks  aground,  and  leave  the  scrag  end  of  a 
property  and  a  history  without  a  man  to  take  them  up, 
and  possibly  bear  them  on  to  redemption ;  for  who 
could  tell  what  life  might  be  in  the  stock  yet !  Any- 
how, it  would  be  better  to  leave  an  heir  to  take  the 
remnant  in  charge,  and  at  least  carry  the  name  a  gen- 
eration farther,  even  should  it  be  into  yet  deeper  pov- 
erty than  hitherto.  A  Warlock  could  face  his  fate. 
Thereupon,  with  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  not 


THE    KITCHEN. 


always  manifested  on  such  occasions,  he  had  paid  his 
addresses  to  a  woman  of  five  and  thirty,  the  daughter 
of  the  last  clergyman  of  the  parish,  and  had  by  her 
been  accepted  with  little  hesitation.  She  was  a  capa- 
ble and  brave  woman,  and,  fully  informed  of  the  state 
of  his  affairs,  married  him  in  the  hope  of  doing  some- 
thing to  help  him  out  of  his  difficulties.  A  few 
pounds  she  had  saved  up,  and  a  trifle  her  mother  had 
left  her,  she  placed  unreservedly  at  his  disposal,  and 
he  in  his  abounding  honesty  spent  it  on  his  creditors, 
bettering  things  for  a  time,  and,  which  was  of  much 
more  consequence,  greatly  relieving  his  mind,  and 
giving  the  life  in  him  a  fresh  start.  His  marriage 
was  of  infinitely  more  salvation  to  the  laird  than  if  it 
had  set  him  free  from  all  his  worldly  embarrassments, 
for  it  set  him  growing  again — and  that  is  the  only 
final  path  out  of  oppression. 

Whatever  were  the  feelings  with  which  he  took  his 
wife  home,  they  were  at  least  those  of  a  gentleman ; 
and  it  were  a  good  thing  indeed,  if,  at  the  end  of  five 
years,  the  love  of  most  pairs  who  marry  for  love  were 
equal  to  that  of  Cosmo  Warlock  to  his  middle-aged 
wife;  and  now  that  she  was  gone,  his  reverence  for 
her  memory  was  something  surpassing.  From  the 
day  almost  of  his  marriage  the  miseries  of  life 
lost  half  their  bitterness,  nor  had  it  returned  at  her 
death.  Instinctively  he  felt  that  outsiders,  those  even 
who  respected  him  as  an  honest  man,  believed  that, 
somehow  or  other,  they  could  only  conjecture  how,  he 
must  be  to  blame  for  the  circumstances  he  was  in  — 
either  this,  or  providence  did  not  take  care  of  the  just 
man.     Such  was  virtually  the  unuttered  conclusion  of 


22  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

many,  who  nevertheless  imagined  they  understood 
the  Book  of  Job,  and  who  would  have  counted 
Warlock's  rare  honesty,  pride  or  fastidiousness  or  un- 
justifiable free-handedness.  Hence  they  came  to 
think  and  speak  of  him  as  a  poor  creature,  and  soon 
the  man,  through  the  keen  sensitiveness  of  his  nature, 
became  aware  of  the  fact.  But  to  his  sense  of  the 
misprision  of  neighbours  and  friends,  came  the  faith 
and  indignant  confidence  of  his  wife  like  the  closing 
and  binding  up  and  mollifying  of  a  wound  with  oint- 
ment. The  man  was  of  a  far  finer  nature  than  any 
of  those  who  thus  judged  him,  of  whom  some  would 
doubtless  have  got  out  of  their  difiiculties  sooner  than 
he — only  he  was  more  honorable  in  debt  than  they 
were  out  of  it.  A  woman  of  strong  sense,  with  an 
undeveloped  stratum  of  poetry  in  the  heart  of  it,  his 
wife  was  able  to  appreciate  the  finer  elements  of  his 
nature  ;  and  she  let  him  see  very  plainly  that  she  did. 
This  was  strength  and  a  lifting  up  of  the  head  to  the 
husband,  who  in  his  youth  had  been  oppressed  by  the 
positiveness,  and  in  his  manhood  by  the  opposition, 
of  his  mother,  whom  the  neighbours  regarded  as  a 
woman  of  strength  and  faculty.  And  now,  although, 
all  his  life  since,  he  had  had  to  fight  the  wolf  as  con- 
stantly as  ever,  things,  even  after  his  wife's  death, 
Continued  very  different  from  what  they  had  been  be- 
fore he  married  her;  his  existence  looked  a  far  more 
acceptable  thing  seen  through  the  regard  of  his  wife 
than  through  that  of  his  neighbours.  They  had  been 
five  years  married  before  she  brought  him  an  heir  to 
his  poverty,  and  she  lived  five  years  more  to  train 
him  —  then,  after  a  short  illness,  departed,  and  left 


THE    KITCHEN.  23 


the  now  aging  man  virtually  alone  with  his  little 
child,  coruscating  spark  of  fresh  vitality  amidst  the 
ancient  surroundings.  This  was  the  Cosmo  who  now, 
somewhat  sore  at  heart  from  the  result  of  his  cogita- 
tions, entered  the  kitchen  in  search  of  his  kind. 

Another  woman  was  sitting  on  a  three-legged  stool, 
just  inside  the  door,  paring  potatoes — throwing  each, 
as  she  cut  off  what  the  old  lady,  watching,  judged  a 
paring  far  too  thick,  into  a  bowl  of  water.  She 
looked  nearly  as  old  as  her  mistress,  though  she  was 
really  ten  years  younger.  She  had  come  with  the 
late  mistress  from  her  father's  house,  and  had  always 
taken,  and  still  took  her  part  against  the  opposing 
faction  —  namely  the  grandmother. 

A  second  seat  —  not  over  easy,  but  comfortable 
enough,  being  simply  a  wide  arm-chair  of  elm,  with  a 
cushion  covered  in  horse-hair,  stood  at  the  opposite 
corner  of  the  fire.  This  was  the  laird's  seat,  at  the 
moment,  as  generally  all  the  morning  till  dinner- 
time, empty  :  Cosmo,  not  once  looking  up,  walked 
straight  to  it,  diagonally  across  the  floor,  and  seated 
himself  like  one  verily  lost  in  thought.  Now  and 
then,  as  she  peeled.  Grizzle  would  cast  a  keen  glance 
at  him  out  of  her  bright  blue  eyes,  round  whose  fire 
the  wrinkles  had  gathered  like  ashes  :  those  eyes 
were  sweet  and  pleasant,  and  the  expression  of  her 
face  was  one  of  lovely  devotion  ;  but  otherwise  she 
was  far  from  beautiful.  She  gave  a  grim  smile  to 
herself  every  time  she  glanced  up  at-  him  from  her 
potatoes,  as  much  as  to  say  she  knew  well  enough 
what  he  was  thinking,  though  no  one  else  did.  "  He'll 
be  a  man  yet !  "  she  said  to  herself. 


24  WARLOCK    O     GLEN  WARLOCK. 

The  old  lady  also  now  and  then  looked  over  her 
stocking  at  the  boy,  where  he  sat  with  his  back  to  the 
white  deal  dresser,  ornate  with  homeliest  dishes. 

"  It'll  be  lang  or  ye  fill  that  chair,  Cossie,  my  man ! " 
she  said  at  length,  —  but  not  with  the  smile  of  play, 
rather  with  the  look  of  admonition,  as  if  it  was  the 
boy's  first  duty  to  grow  in  breadth  in  order  to  fill  the 
chair,  and  restore  the  symmetry  of  the  world. 

Cosmo  glanced  up,  but  did  not  speak,  and  pres- 
ently was  lost  again  in  the  thoughts  from  which  his 
grandmother  had  roused  him  as  one  is  roused  by  a  jolt 
on  the  road. 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  about,  Cossie  ?  "  she  said 
again,  in  a  tone  wavering  but  imperative. 

Her  speech  was  that  of  a  gentlewoman  of  the  old 
time,  when  the  highest  born  in  Scotland  spoke  Scotch. 

Not  yet  did  Cosmo  reply.  Reverie  does  not  agree 
well  with  manners,  but  it  would  besides  have  been 
hard  for  him  to  answer  the  old  lady's  question  —  not 
that  he  did  not  know  something  at  least  of  what  was 
going  on  in  his  mind,  but  that,  he  knew  instinc- 
tively, it  would  have  sounded  in  her  ears  no  hair  better 
than  the  jabber  of  Jule  Sandy. 

"  Mph  !  "  she  said,  offended  at  his  silence ;  "  Ye'll 
hae  to  learn  manners  afore  ye're  laird  o'  Glenwarlock, 
young  Cosmo  ! " 

A  shadow  of  indignation  passed  over  Grizzie's 
rippled,  rather  than  wrinkled  face,  but  she  said  noth- 
ing. There  was  a  time  to  speak  and  a  time  to  be 
silent ;  nor  was  Grizzle  indebted  to  Solomon,  but  to 
her  own  experience  and  practice,  for  the  wisdom  of 
the  saw.     Only  the  pared  potatoes  splashed  louder 


THE    KITCHEN. 


25 


in  the  water  as  they  fell.  And  the  old  lady  knew  as 
well  what  that  meant,  as  if  the  splashes  had  been  ar- 
ticulate sounds  from  the  mouth  of  the  old  partisan. 

The  boy  rose,  and  coming  forward,  rather  like  one 
walking  in  his  sleep,  stood  up  before  his  grand- 
mother, and  said, 

"  What  was  ye  sayin',  gran'mamma  ?  " 

"I  was  sayin'  what  ye  wadna  hearken  till,  an 
that's  enouch,"  she  answered,  willing  to  show  of- 
fence. 

"  Say  't  again,  gran'mamma,  if  you  please.  I 
wasna  noticin'." 

"  Na !  Is'  warran'  ye  frae  noticin' !  There  ye 
winna  gang,  whaur  yer  ain  fule  fancy  does  na  lead 
the  w'y.  Cosmo,  by  gie  ower  muckle  tether  to 
wull  thoucht,  an'  someday  ye'U  be  laid  i'  the  dub, 
followin'  what  has  naither  sense  intil't,  nor  this 
warl's  gude.  —  What  was  ye  thinkin'  aboot  the  noo  .'* 
—  Tell  me  that,  an'  Is'  lat  ye  gang." 

"  I  was  thinkin'  aboot  the  burnie,  gran'mamma." 

"It  wad  be  tellin'  ye  to  lat  the  burnie  rin,  an' 
stick  to  yer  bulk,  laddie ! " 

"The  burnie  wull  rin,  gran'mamma,  and  the  bulk 
'ill  bide,"  said  Cosmo,  perhaps  not  very  clearly 
understanding  himself. 

"Ye're  gettin'  on  to  be  a  man,  noo,"  said  his 
grandmother,  heedless  of  the  word  of  his  defence, 
"an'  ye  maun  learn  to  put  awa'  bairnly  things. 
There's  a  heap  depen'in'  upo'  ye,  Cosmo.  Ye'll 
be  the  fift  o'  the  name  i'  the  family,  an'  I'm  feart 
ye  may  be  the  last.  It's  but  sma'  honour,  laddie, 
to  ony  man  to  be  the  last ;  an'  gien  ye  dinna  gaither 


26  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

the  wit  ye  hae,  and  du  the  best  ye  can,  ye  winna 
lang  be  laird  o'  Glenwarlock.  Gien  it  wasna  for 
Grizzie  there,  wha  has  no  richt  to  owerhear  the 
aifairs  o'  the  family,  I  micht  think  the  time  had 
come  for  enlichtenin'  ye  upo'  things  it's  no  shuita- 
ble  ye  should  gang  ignorant  o'.  But  we'll  put  it 
aff  till  a  mair  convenient  sizzon,  atween  oor  ain 
twa  lanes." 

"An'  a  mair  convanient  spokesman,  I  houp,  my 
leddy,"  said  Grizzie,  deeply  offended. 

"An'  wha  sud  that  be  ?  "  rejoined  her  mistress. 

"  Ow,  wha  but  the  laird  himsel'  ? "  answered 
Grizzie,  "Wha's  to  come  atween  father  an'  son 
wi'  licht  upo'  family-affairs  ?  No  even  the  mistress 
hersel'  wad  hae  prezhunt  upo'  that  ?  " 

"  Keep  your  own  place,  Grizzie,"  said  the  old  lady 
with  dignity. 

And  Grizzie,  who  had  gone  farther  in  the  cause 
of  propriety,  than  propriety  itself  could  justify,  held 
her  peace.  Only  the  potatoes  splashed  yet  louder 
in  the  bowl.  Her  mistress  sat  grimly  silent,  for 
though  she  had  had  the  last  word  and  had  been 
obeyed,  she  was  rebuked  in  herself.  Cosmo,  judg- 
ing the  specialty  of  the  interview  over,  turned  and 
went  back  to  his  father's  chair ;  but  just  as  he  was 
seating  himself  in  it,  his  father  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

The  form  was  that  of  a  tall,  thin  man,  a  little  bent 
at  the  knees  and  bowed  in  the  back,  who  yet  car- 
ried himself  with  no  small  dignity,  cloaked  in  an 
air  of  general  apology  —  as  if  he  would  have  said, 
"I  am   sorry  my  way  is    not   yours,  for  I  see  very 


THE   KITCHEN.  27 


well  how  wrong  you  must  think  it."  He  wore  large 
strong  shoes  —  I  think  a  description  should  begin 
with  the  feet  rather  than  the  head  —  fit  for  boggy 
land  ;  blue,  ribbed,  woollen  stockings  ;  knee-breeches 
of  some  home-made  stuff :  all  the  coarser  cloth 
they  wore,  and  they  wore  little  else,  was  shorn  from 
their  own  sheep,  and  spun,  woven,  and  made  at 
home  ;  an  old  blue  dress  coat  with  bright  buttons ; 
a  drab  waistcoat  which  had  once  been  yellow ;  and 
to  crown  all,  a  red  woollen  nightcap,  hanging  down 
on  one  side  with  a  tassel. 

"  Weel,  Grizzle !  "  he  said,  in  a  gentle,  rather  sad 
voice,  as  if  the  days  of  his  mourning  were  not  yet 
ended,  "  I'm  ower  sune  the  day  !  " 

He  never  passed  Grizzle  without  greeting  her, 
and  Grizzle's  devotion  to  him  was  like  that  of  slave 
and  sister  mingled. 

"  Na,  laird,"  she  answered,  "  ye  can  never  be 
ower  sune  for  yer  ain  fowk,  though  ye  may  be  for 
yer  ain  stamack.  The  taties  winna  be  lang  bilin' 
the  day.     They're  some  sma'." 

"That's  because  you  pare  them  so  much.  Grizzle," 
said  the  grandmother. 

Grizzle  vouchsafed  no  reply. 

The  moment  young  Cosmo  saw  whose  shadow 
darkened  the  doorway,  he  rose  in  haste,  and  stand- 
ing with  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair,  waited 
for  his  father  to  seat  himself  in  it.  The  laird  ac- 
knowledged his  attention  with  a  smile,  sat  down, 
and  looked  like  the  last  sitter  grown  suddenly  old. 
He  put  out  his  hand  to  the  boy  across  the  low  arm 
of  the  chair,  and  the  boy  laid  his  hand  in  his  father's, 


28  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

and  so  they  remained,  neither  saying  a  word.  The 
laird  leaned  back,  and  sat  resting.     All  were  silent. 

Notwithstanding  the  oddity  of  his  dress,  no  one 
who  had  any  knowledge  of  humanity  could  have 
failed  to  see  in  Cosmo  Warlock,  the  elder,  a  high  bred 
gentleman.  His  face  was  small,  and  the  skin  of  it 
was  puckered  into  wrinkles  innumerable  ;  his  mouth 
was  sweet,  but  he  had  lost  his  teeth,  and  the  lips  had 
fallen  in  ;  his  chin,  however,  was  large  and  strong  ; 
while  his  blue  eyes  looked  out  from  under  his  narrow 
high  forehead  with  a  softly  piercing  glance  of  great 
gentleness  and  benignity.  A  little  gray  hair  clustered 
about  his  temples  and  the  back  of  his  head  —  the  red 
nightcap  hid  the  rest.  There  was  three  days'  growth 
of  gray  beard  on  his  chin,  for  now  that  he  had  nobody^ 
he  would  say,  he  had  not  the  heart  to  shave  every 
morning. 

For  some  time  he  sat  looking  straight  before  him, 
smiling  to  his  mother's  hands  as  they  knitted,  she 
casting  on  him  now  and  then  a  look  that  seemed  to 
express  the  consciousness  of  blame  for  not  having 
made  a  better  job  of  him,  or  for  having  given  him  too 
much  to  do  in  the  care  of  himself.  For  neither  did 
his  mother  believe  in  him  farther  than  that  he  had  the 
best  possible  intentions  in  what  he  did,  or  did  not  do. 
At  the  same  time  she  never  doubted  he  was  more  of 
a  man  than  ever  his  son  would  be,  seeing  they  had 
such  different  mothers. 

"  Grizzle,"  said  the  laird,  "  hae  ye  a  drappy  o'  soor 
milk }     I'm  some  dry." 

"  Ay,  that  hae  I,  sir  !  "  answered  Grizzle  with  alac- 
rity, and  rising  went  into  the  darker  region  behind 


THE    KITCHEN. 


29 


the  kitchen,  whence  presently  she  emerged  with  a 
white  basin  full  of  rich  milk  —  half  cream,  it  was  in- 
deed. Without  explanation  or  apology  she  handed  it 
to  her  master,  who  received  and  drank  it  off. 

"  Hoots,  woman  !  "  he  said,  "  ye  wad  hae  me  a 
shargar  {a  skin-and-bone  calf) !     That's  no  soor  milk !  " 

"  I'm  vexed  it's  no  to  yer  taste,  laird  !  "  returned 
Grizzle  coolly,  "  but  I  hae  nane  better." 

"Ye  tellt  me  ye  had  soor  milk,"  said  the  laird  — 
without  a  particle  of  offence,  rather  in  the  tone  of 
apology  for  having  by  mistake  made  away  with  some- 
thing too  good  for  him. 

"  Weel,  laird,"  replied  Grizzle,  "  it's  naething  but  the 
guidman's  milk ;  an'  gien  ye  dinna  ken  what's  guid 
for  ye  at  your  time  o'  life,  it's  weel  there  sud  be  an- 
ither  'at  does.  What  has  a  man  o'  your  'ears  to  du 
drinkin'  soor  milk  —  eneuch  to  turn  a'  soor  thegither 
i'  the  inside  o'  ye  !  It's  true  I  win'  ye  weel  a  sma' 
bairn  i'  my  leddy's  airms  — 

"  Ye  may  weel  du  that !  "  interrupted  her  mistress. 

'.'  I  wasna  weel  intil  my  teens,  though,  my  leddy  !  " 
returned  Grizzle.  "  An'  I'm  sure,"  she  added,  in  re- 
venge for  the  insinuation  as  to  her  age,  "  it  wad  ill  be- 
come ony  wuman  to  grudge  a  man  o'  the  laird's 
stan'in  a  drap  o'  the  best  milk  in  's  ain  cellar  !  " 

"  Who  spoke  of  refusing  it  to  him  ?  "  said  •  his 
mother. 

"  Ye  spak  yersel'  sic  an'  siclike,"  answered  Griz- 
zle. 

"  Hoots,  Grizzle  !  hand  yer  tongue,  my  wuman," 
said  the  laird,  in  the  gentlest  tone,  yet  with  reproof  in 
it.     "  Ye  ken  weel  it's  no  my  mother  wad  grudge  me 


30  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

the  milk  ye  wad  gie  me.  It  was  but  my'sel'  'at  didna 
think  mysel'  worthy  o'  that  same,  seein'  it's  no  a  week 
yet  sin'  bonny  Hawkie  dee'd  !  " 

"An'  wad  ye  hae  the  Lord's  anintit  depen'  upo' 
Hawkie  ?  "  cried  Grizzie  with  indignation. 

The  contest  went  no  farther,  and  Grizzie  had  had 
the  best  of  it,  as  none  knew  better  than  she.  In  a 
minute  or  two  the  laird  rose  and  went  out,  and  Cosmo 
went  with  him. 

Before  Cosmo's  mother  died,  old  Mrs.  Warlock 
would  have  been  indignant  at  the  idea  of  sitting  in  the 
kitchen,  but  things  had  combined  to  bring  her  to  it. 
She  found  herself  very  lonely  seated  in  state  in  the 
drawing-room,  where,  as  there  was  no  longer  a  daugh- 
ter-in-law to  go  aad  come,  she  learned  little  or  noth- 
ing of  what  was  doing  about  the  place,  and  where  few 
that  called  cared  to  seek  her  out,  for  she  had  never 
been  a  favourite  with  the  humbler  neighbours.  Also, 
as  time  went  on,  and  the  sight  of  money  grew  rarer  and 
rarer,  it  became  more  desirable  to  economize  light  in 
the  winter.  They  had  not  come  to  that  with  firing/ 
for,  as  long  as  there  were  horses  and  intervals  of  less 
labour  on  the  farm,  peats  were  always  to  be  had  — 
though  at  the  same  time,  the  drawing-room  could  not 
be  made  so  warm  as  the  kitchen.  But  for  light,  even 
for  train-oil  to  be  burned  in  the  simplest  of  lamps, 
money  had  to  be  paid  —  and  money  was  of  all  ordi- 
nary things  the  seldomest  seen  at  Castle  Warlock. 
From  these  operative  causes  it  came  by  degrees,  that 
one  winter,  for  the  sake  of  company,  of  warmth,  of 
economy.  Mistress  Warlock  had  her  chair  carried  to 
the  kitchen ;  and  the  thing  once  done,  it  easily  and 


THE    KITCHEN.  31 


naturally  grew  to  a  custom,  and  extended  itself  to  the 
summer  as  well ;  for  she  who  had  ceased  to  stand  on 
ceremony  in  the  winter,  could  hardly  without  addi- 
tional loss  of  dignity  reascend  her  pedestal  only  be- 
cause it  was  summer  again.  To  the  laird  it  was  a 
matter  of  no  consequence  where  he  sat,  ate,  or  slept. 
When  his  wife  was  alive,  wherever  she  was,  that  was 
the  place  for  him ;  when  she  was  gone,  all  places  were 
the  same  to  him.  There  was,  besides,  that  in  the  dis- 
position of  the  man  which  tended  to  the  homely:  — 
any  one  who  imagines  that  in  the  least  synonymous 
with  the  coarse,  or  discourteous,  or  unrefined,  has 
yet  to  understand  the  essentials  of  good  breeding. 
Hence  it  came  that  the  other  rooms  of  the  house  were 
by  degrees  almost  neglected.  Both  the  dining-room 
and  drawing-room  grew  very  cold,  cold  as  with  the 
coldness  of  what  is  dead ;  and  though  he  slept  in  the 
same  part  of  the  house  by  choice,  not  often  did  the 
young  laird  enter  either.  But  he  had  concerning 
them,  the  latter  in  particular,  a  notion  of  vastness  and 
grandeur;  and  along  with  that,  a  vague  sense  of  sanc- 
tity, which  it  is  not  quite  easy  to  define  or  account  for. 
It  seems  however  to  have  the  same  root  with  all  ven- 
eration for  place — for  if  there  were  not  a  natural  in- 
clination to  venerate  place,  would  any  external  reason 
make  men  capable  of  it.**  I  think  we  shall  come  at 
length  to  feel  all  places,  as  all  times  and  all  spaces, 
venerable,  because  they  are  the  outcome  of  the  eter- 
nal nature  and  the  eternal  thought.  When  we  have 
God,  all  is  holy,  and  we  are  at  home. 


CHAPTER     III. 


THE    DRAWING-ROOM. 


As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  the  kitchen- door,  the 
boy  pushed  his  hand  into  his  father's;  the  father 
grasped  it,  and  without  a  word  spoken,  they  walked 
on  together.  They  would  often  be  half  a  day  together 
without  a  word  passing  between  them.  To  be  near, 
each  to  the  other,  seemed  enough  for  each. 

Cosmo  had  thought  his  father  was  going  somewhere 
about  the  farm,  to  see  how  things  were  getting  on ; 
but,  instead  of  crossing  to  the  other  side  of  the  cOurt, 
where  lay  the  sheds  and  stables,  etc.,  or  leaving  it  by 
the  gate,  the  laird  turned  to  the  left,  and  led  the  way 
to  the  next  block  of  building,  where  he  stopped  at  a 
door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  front  of  it.  It  was  a 
heavy  oak  door,  studded  with  great  broad  iron  knobs, 
arranged  in  angular  patterns.  It  was  set  deep  in  the 
thick  wall,  but  there  were  signs  of  there  having  been 
a  second,  doubtless  still  stronger,  flush  with  the  ex- 
ternal surface,  for  the  great  hooks  of  the  hinges  re- 
mained, with  the  deep  hole  in  the  stone  on  the 
32 


THE    DRAWING-ROOM. 


^^ 


opposite  side  for  the  bolt.  The  key  was  in  the  lock, 
for,  except  to  open  the  windows,  and  do  other  neces- 
sary pieces  of  occasional  tendance,  it  was  seldom 
anybody  entered  the  place,  and  Grizzle  generally 
turned  the  key,  and  left  it  in  the  lock.  She  would 
have  been  indignant  at  the  assertion,  but  I  am  posi- 
tive it  was  not  a/ways  taken  out  at  night.  In  this 
part  of  the  castle  were  the  dining  and  drawing 
rooms,  and  immediately  over  the  latter,  a  state  bed- 
room in  which  nobody  had  slept  for  many  years. 

It  was  into  a  narrow  passage,  no  wider  than  itself, 
the  door  led.  From  this  passage  a  good-sized  hall 
opened  to  the  left  —  very  barely  furnished,  but  with  a 
huge  fireplace,  and  a  great  old  table,  that  often  had 
feasted  jubilant  companies.  The  walls  were  only 
plastered,  and  were  stained  with  damp.  Against  them 
were  fixed  a  few  mouldering  heads  of  wild  animals  — 
the  stag  and  the  fox  and  the  otter  —  one  ancient 
wolf's-head  also,  wherever  that  had  been  killed.  But 
it  was  not  into  this  room  the  laird  led  his  son.  The 
passage  ended  in  a  stone  stair  that  went  up  between 
containing  walls.  It  was  much  worn,  and  had  so 
little  head-room  that  the  laird  could  not  ascend  with- 
out stooping.  Cosmo  was  short  enough  as  yet  to  go 
erect,  but  it  gave  him  always  a  feeling  of  imprison- 
ment and  choking,  a  brief  agony  of  the  imagination, 
to  pass  through  the  narrow  curve,  though  he  did  so 
at  least  twice  every  day.  It  was  the  oldest-looking 
thing  about  the  place — that  staircase. 

At  the  top  of  it,  the  laird  turned  to  the  right,  and 
lifted  the  latch — all  the  doors  were  latched — of  a 
dark-looking  door.     It  screaked  dismally  as  it  opened. 


34  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

He  entered  and  undid  a  shutter,  letting  an  abiding 
flash  of  the  ever  young  Hght  of  the  summer  day  into 
the  ancient  room.  It  was  long  since  Cosmo  had 
been  in  it  before.  The  aspect  of  it  affected  him  like 
a  withered  wall-flower. 

It  was  a  well-furnished  room.  A  lady  with  taste 
must  at  one  time  at  least  have  presided  in  it — but 
then  withering  does  so  much  for  beauty  —  and  that 
not  of  stuffs  and  things  only !  The  furniture  of  it 
was  very  modern  compared  with  the  house,  but  not 
much  of  it  was  younger  than  the  last  James,  or 
Queen  Anne,  and  it  had  all  a  stately  old-maidish  look. 
Such  venerable  rooms  have  been  described,  and 
painted,  and  put  on  the  stage,  and  dreamed  about, 
tens  of  thousands  of  times,  yet  they  always  draw  me 
afresh  as  if  they  were  as  5^oung  as  the  new  children 
who  keep  the  world  from  growing  old.  They  haunt 
me,  and  if  I  miss  them  in  heaven,  I  shall  have  one 
given  me.  On  the  floor  was  an  old,  old  carpet,  won- 
drously  darned  and  skilfully  patched,  with  all  its 
colours  faded  into  a  sweet  faint  ghost-like  harmony. 
Several  spider-legged,  inlaid  tables  stood  about  the 
room,  but  most  of  the  chairs  were  of  a  sturdier  make, 
one  or  two  of  rich  carved  work  of  India,  no  doubt  a 
great  rarity  when  first  brought  to  Glenwarlock.  The 
walls  had  once  had  colour,  but  it  was  so  retiring  and 
indistinct  in  the  little  light  that  came  through  the 
one  small  deep-set  window  whose  shutter  had  been 
opened,  that  you  could  not  have  said  what  it  was. 
There  were  three  or  four  cabinets — one  of  them  old 
Japanese  ;  and  on  a  table  a  case  of  gorgeous  hum- 
mine:  birds.      The   scarlet   cloth    that   covered   the 


THE   DRAWING-ROOM. 


35 


table  was  faded  to  a  dirty  orange,  but  the  birds  were 
almost  as  bright  as  when  they  darted  like  live  jewels 
through  the  tropical  sunlight.  Exquisite  as  they  were 
however,  they  had  not  for  the  boy  half  the  interest  of 
a  faded  old  fire-screen,  lovelily  worked  in  silks,  by 
hands  to  him  unknown,  long  ago  returned  to  the 
earth  of  which  they  were  fashioned.  A  variety  of 
nick-nacks  and  ornaments,  not  a  few  of  which  would 
have  been  of  value  in  the  eyes  of  a  connoisseur, 
crowded  the  chimney-piece  —  which  stood  over  an 
iron  grate  with  bulging  bars,  and  a  tall  brass  fender. 
How  still  and  solemn-quiet  it  all  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  great  triumphant  sunny  day  —  like  some  far- 
down  hollow  in  a  rock,  the  matrix  of  a  gem  !  It 
looked  as  if  it  had  done  with  life  —  as  much  done 
with  life  as  if  it  were  a  room  in  Egyptian  rock,  yet 
was  it  full  of  the  memories  of  keenest  life,  and 
Cosmo  knew  there  was  treasure  upon  treasure  of 
wonder  and  curiosity  hid  in  those  cabinets,  some  of 
which  he  had  seen,  and  more  he  would  like  to  see. 
But  it  was  not  to  show  him  any  of  these  that  his 
father  had  now  brought  him  to  the  room. 

Not  once  yielding  the  right  hand  of  the  boy  which 
was  clasped  to  and  in  his  own,  the  laird  closed  the 
door  of  the  room,  and  advancing  the  whole  length 
of  it,  stopped  at  a  sofa  covered  with  a  rich  brocade, 
and  seating  himself  thereon,  slowly,  and  with  a  kind 
of  care,  drew  him  between  his  thin  knees,  and  be- 
gan to  talk  to  him.  Now  there  was  this  difference 
between  the  relation  of  these  two  and  that  of  most 
fathers  and  sons,  that,  thus  taken  into  solemn  soli- 
tude  by  his   old  father,  the   boy  felt  no  dismay,  no 


36  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

sense  of  fault  to  be  found,  no  troubled  expectation 
of  admonition.  Reverence  and  love  held  about 
equal  sway  in  his  feeling  towards  his  father.  And 
while  the  grandmother  looked  down  on  Cosmo  as 
the  son  of  his  mother,  for  that  very  reason  his 
father  in  a  strange  lovely  way  reverenced  his  boy : 
the  reaction  was  utter  devotion. 

Cosmo  stood  and  looked  in  his  father's  eyes  — 
their  eyes  were  of  the  same  colour  —  that  bright 
sweet  soft  Norwegian  blue  —  his  right  hand  still 
clasped  in  his  father's  left,  and  his  left  hand  lean- 
ing gently  on  his  father's  knee.  Then,  as  I  say, 
the  old  man  began  to  talk  to  the  young  one.  A  si- 
lent man  ordinarily,  it  was  from  no  lack  of  the 
power  of  speech,  for  he  had  a  Celtic  gift  of  simple 
eloquence. 

"  This  is  your  birthday,  my  son." 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  You  are  now  fourteen." 

*'  Yes,  papa." 

"  You  are  growing  quite  a  man." 

"  I  don't  know,  papa." 

"  So  much  of  a  man,  at  least,  my  Cosmo,  that 
I  am  going  to  treat  you  like  a  man  this  day,  and 
tell  you  some  things  that  I  have  never  talked  about 
to  any  one  since  your  mother's  death.  —  You  re- 
member your  mother,  Cosmo  .'*  " 

This  question  he  was  scarcely  ever  alone  with  the 
boy  without  asking  —  not  from  forgetfulness,  but 
from  the  desire  to  keep  the  boy's  remembrance  of 
her  fresh,  and  for  the  pure  pleasure  of  talking  of 
her  to  the  only  one  with  whom  it  did  not  seem  pro- 


•  THE     DRAWING-ROOM.  37 

fane  to    converse   concerning   his  worshipped  wife. 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  do." 

The  laird  always  spoke  Scotch  to  his  mother,  and 
to  Grizzie  also,  who  would  have  thought  him  se- 
riously offended  had  he  addressed  her  in  book-Eng- 
lish ;  but  to  his  Marion's  son  he  always  spoke  in 
the  best  English  he  had,  and  Cosmo  did  his  best 
in  the  same  way  in  return. 

"Tell  me  what  you  remember  about  her,"  said  the 
old  man. 

He  had  heard  the  same  thing  again  and  again  from 
the  boy,  yet  every  time  it  was  as  if  he  hoped  and 
watched  for  some  fresh  revelation  from  the  lips  of  the 
lad  —  as  if,  truth  being  one,  memory  might  go  on 
recalling,  as  imagination  goes  on  foreseeing. 

"I  remember,"  said  the  boy,  "a  tall  beautiful 
woman,  with  long  hair,  which  she  brushed  before  a 
big,  big  looking-glass." 

The  love  of  the  son,  kept  alive  by  the  love  of  the 
husband,  glorifying  through  the  mists  of  his  memory 
the  earthly  appearance  of  the  mother,  gave  to  her  the 
form  in  which  he  would  see  her  again,  rather  than  that 
in  which  he  had  actually  beheld  her.  And  indeed 
the  father  saw  her  after  the  same  fashion  in  the  mem- 
ory of  his  love.  Tall  to  the  boy  of  five,  she  was  little 
above  the  middle  height,  yet  the  husband  saw  her 
stately  in  his  dreams  ;  there  was  nothing  remarkable 
in  her  face  except  the  expression,  which  after  her 
marriage  had  continually  gathered  tenderness  and 
grace,  but  the  husband  as  well  as  the  children  called 
her  absolutely  beautiful. 

"  What  colour  were  her  eyes,  Cosmo  ?  " 


38  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  never  saw  the  colour  of  them ;  but 
I  remember  they  looked  at  me  as  if  I  should  run  into 
them." 

"  She  would  have  died  for  you,  my  boy.  We  must 
be  very  good  that  we  may  see  her  again  some  day." 

"  I  will  try.     I  do  try,  papa." 

"  You  see,  Cosmo,  when  a  woman  like  that  conde- 
scends to  be  wife  to  one  of  us  and  mother  to  the 
other,  the  least  we  can  do,  when  she  is  taken  from  us, 
is  to  give  her  the  same  love  and  the  same  obedience 
after  she  is  gone  as  when  she  was  with  us.  She  is 
with  her  own  kind  up  in  heaven  now,  but  she  may  be 
looking  down  and  watching  us.  It  may  be  God  lets 
her  do  that,  that  she  may  see  of  the  travail  of  her 
soul  and  be  satisfied  —  who  can  tell?  She  can't  be 
very  anxious  about  me  now,  for  I  am  getting  old,  and 
my  warfare  is  nearly  over;  but  she  may  be  getting 
things  ready  to  rest  me  a  bit.  She  knows  I  have  for 
a  long  time  now  been  trying  to  keep  the  straight  path, 
as  far  as  I  could  see  it,  though  sometimes  the  grass 
and  heather  has  got  the  better  of  it,  so  that  it  was 
hard  to  find.  But  you  must  remember,  Cosmo,  that 
it  is  not  enough  to  be  a  good  boy,  as  I  shall  tell  her 
you  have  always  been :  you've  got  to  be  a  good  man, 
and  that  is  a  rather  different  and  sometimes  a  harder 
thing.  For,  as  soon  as  a  man  has  to  do  with  other 
men,  he  finds  they  expect  him  to  do  things  they  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  doing  themselves ;  and  then  he  has 
got  to  stand  on  his  own  honest  legs,  and  not  move  an 
inch  for  all  their  pushing  and  pulling;  and  especially 
where  a  man  loves  his  fellow  man  and  likes  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  him,  that  is  not  easy.     The  thing  is 


THE    DRAWING-ROOM.  39 

just  this,  Cosmo  —  when  you  are  a  full-grown  man^ 
you  must  be  a  good  boy  still  —  that's  the  difficulty. 
For  a  man  to  be  a  boy,  and  a  good  boy  still,  he  must 
be  a  thorough  man.  The  man  that's  not  manly  can 
never  be  a  good  boy  to  his  mother.  And  you  can't 
keep  true  to  your  mother,  except  you  remember  Him 
who  is  father  and  mother  both  to  all  of  us.  I  wish 
my  Marion  were  here  to  teach  you  as  she  taught  me. 
She  taught  me  to  pray,  Cosmo,  as  I  have  tried  to  teach 
you  —  when  I  was  in  any  trouble,  just  to  go  into  my 
closet,  and  shut  to  the  door,  and  pray  to  my  Father 
who  is  in  secret  —  the  same  Father  who  loved  you  so 
much  as  to  give  you  my  Marion  for  a  mother.  But 
I  am  getting  old  and  tired,  and  shall  soon  go  where  I 
hope  to  learn  faster.  Oh,  my  boy !  hear  your  father 
who  loves  you,  and  never  do  the  thing  you  would  be 
ashamed  for  your  mother  or  me  to  know.  Remember, 
nothing  drops  out ;  everything  hid  shall  be  revealed. 
But  of  all  things,  if  ever  you  should  fail  or  fall,  don't 
lie  still  because  you  are  down:  get  up  again — for 
God's  sake,  for  your  mother's  sake,  for  my  sake — get 
up  and  try  again. 

"  And  now  it  is  time  you  should  know  a  little  about 
the  family  of  which  you  come.  I  don't  doubt  there 
have  been  some  in  it  who  would  count  me  a  foolish 
man  for  bringing  you  up  as  I  have  done,  but  those  of 
them  who  are  up  there  don't.  They  see  that  the  busi- 
ness of  life  is  not  to  get  as  much  as  you  can,  but  to 
do  justly,  and  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  .with 
your  God — 'with  your  mother's  God,  my  son.  They 
may  say  I  have  made  a  poor  thing  of  it,  but  I  shall 
not  hang  my  head  before  the  public  of  that  country, 


40  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

because  I've  let  the  land  slip  from  me  that  I  couldn't 
keep  any  more  than  this  weary  old  carcase  that's  now 
crumbling  away  from  about  me.  Some  would  tell 
me  I  ought  to  shudder  at  the  thought  of  leaving  you 
to  such  ^poverty,  but  I  am  too  anxious  about  yourself, 
my  boy,  to  think  much  about  the  hardships  that  may 
be  waiting  you.  I  should  be  far  more  afraid  about 
you  if  I  were  leaving  you  rich,  I  have  seen  rich 
people  do  things  I  never  knew  a  poor  gentleman  do. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  anything  against  the  rich  — 
there's  good  and  bad  of  all  sorts ;  but  I  just  can't  be 
so  very  sorry  that  I  am  leaving  you  to  poverty,  though, 
if  I  might  have  had  my  way,  it  wouldn't  have  been  so 
bad.  But  he  knows  best  who  loves  best.  I  have 
struggled  hard  to  keep  the  old  place  for  you ;  but 
there's  hardly  an  acre  outside  the  garden  and  close 
but  was  mortgaged  before  I  came  into  the  property. 
I've  been  all  my  life  trying  to  pay  off,  but  have  made 
little  progress.  The  house  is  free,  however,  and  the 
garden ;  and  don't  you  part  with  the  old  place,  my 
boy,  except  you  see  you  ought.  But  rather  than  any- 
thing not  out  and  out  honest,  anything  the  least 
doubtful,  sell  every  stone.  Let  all  go,  if  you  should 
have  to  beg  your  way  home  to  us.  Come  clean,  my 
son,  as  my  Marion  bore  you." 

Here  Cosmo  interrupted  his  father  to  ask  what 
mortgaged  meant.  This  led  to  an  attempt  on  the  part 
of  the  laird  to  instruct  him  in  the  whole  state  of  the 
affairs  of  the  property.  He  showed  him  where  all 
the  papers  were  kept,  and  directed  him  to  whom  to 
go  for  any  requisite  legal  advise.  Weary  then  of 
business,  of  which  he  had  all  his  life  had  more  than 


THE    DRAWING-ROOM.  41 

enough,  he  turned  to  pleasanter  matters,  and  began 
to  tell  him  anecdotes  of  the  family. 

"  What  in  mercy  can  hae  come  o'  the  laird,  think 
ye,  my  leddy  ?  "  said  Grizzle  to  her  mistress.  "  It's 
the  yoong  laird's  birthday,  ye  see,  an'  they  aye  baud 
a  coUoguin'  thegither  upo'  that  same,  an'  I  kenna 
whaur  to  gang  to  cry  them  till  their  denner." 

"  Run  an'  ring  the  great  bell,"  said  the  grand- 
mother, mindful  of  old  glories. 

"  'Deed,  Is'  du  naething  o'  the  kin',"  said  Grizzle 
to  herself;  "  it's  eneuch  to  raise  a  regiment  —  gien  it 
camna  doon  upo'  my  held." 

But  she  had  her  suspicion,  and  finding  the  great 
door  open,  ascended  the  stair. 

The  two  were  sitting  at  a  table,  with  the  genealog- 
ical tree  of  the  family  spread  out  before  them,  the 
father  telling  tale  after  tale,  the  son  listening  in  de- 
light. I  must  confess,  however  —  let  it  tell  against 
the  laird's  honesty  as  it  may — that,  his  design 
being  neither  to  glorify  his  family,  nor  to  teach 
records,  but  to  impress  all  he  could  find  of  ances- 
tral nobility  upon  his  boy,  he  made  a  choice,  and  both 
communicated  and  withheld.  So  absorbed  were  they, 
that  Grizzle's  knock  startled  them  both  a  good  deal. 

"Yer  denners  is  ready,  laird,"  she  said,  standing 
erect  in  the  doorway. 

"Verra  weel.  Grizzle,  I  thank  ye,"  returned  the 
laird.  —  "  Cosmo,  we'll  take  a  walk  together  this  even- 
ing, and  then  I'll  tell  you  more  about  that  brother  of 
my  grandfather's.  Come  along  to  dinner  now.  —  I 
houp  ye  hae  something  in  honour  o'  the  occasion. 
Grizzle,"  he  added  in  a  whisper  when  he  reached  the 


42  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

door,  where  the  old  woman  waited  to  follow  them. 

"  I  teuk  it  upo'  me,  laird,"  answered  Grizzle  in  the 
same  tone,  while  Cosmo  was  going  down  the  stair, 
"to  put  a  cock  an'  a  leek  thegither,  an'  they'll  be 
nane  the  waur  that  ye  hae  keepit  them  i'  the  pot  a 
whilie  langer.  —  Cosmo,"  she  went  on  when  they  had 
descended,  and  overtaken  the  boy,  who  was  waiting 
for  them  at  the  foot,  "  the  Lord  bless  ye  upo'  this 
bonnie  day !  An'  may  ye  be  aye  a  comfort  to  them 
'at  awes  ye,  as  ye  hae  been  up  to  this  present." 
"I  houp  sae,  Grizzle,"  responded  Cosmo  humbly; 
and  all  went  together  to  the  kitchen. 

There  the  table  was  covered  with  a  clean  cloth  of 
the  finest  of  homespun,  and  everything  set  out  with 
the  same  nicety  as  if  the  meal  had  been  spread  in  the 
dining-room.  The  old  lady,  who  had  sought  to  please 
her  son  by  putting  on  her  best  cap  for  the  occasion, 
but  who  had  in  truth  forgot  what  day  it  was  until  re- 
minded by  Grizzle,  sat  already  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  waiting  their  arrival.  She  made  a  kind  speech 
to  the  boy,  hoping  he  would  be  master  of  the  place 
for  many  years  after  his  father  and  she  had  left  him. 
Then  the  meal  commenced.  It  did  not  last  long. 
They  had  the  soup  first,  and  then  the  fowl  that  had 
been  boiled  in  it,  with  a  small  second  dish  of  pota- 
toes—  the  year's  baby  Kidneys,  besides  those  Grizzle 
had  pared.  Delicate  pancakes  followed  —  and  din- 
ner was  over — except  for  the  laird,  who  had  a  little 
toddy  after.  But  as  yet  Cosmo  had  never  even 
tasted  strong  drink  —  and  of  course  he  never  desired 
it.  Leaving  the  table,  he  wandered  out,  pondering 
some  of  the  thin2;s  his  father  had  been  telling  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


AN  AFTERNOON  SLEEP. 


Presently,  without  having  thought  whither  he 
meant  to  go,  he  found  himself  out  of  sight  of  the 
house  —  in  a  favourite  haunt,  but  one  in  which  he 
always  had  a  peculiar  feeling  of  strangeness  and  even 
expatriation.  He  had  descended  the  stream  that 
rushed  past  the  end  of  the  house,  till  it  joined  the 
valley  river,  and  followed  the  latter  up,  to  where  it 
took  a  sudden  sharp  turn,  and  a  little  farther.  Then 
he  crossed  it,  and  was  in  a  lonely  nook  of  the  glen, 
with  steep  braes  about  him  on  all  sides,  some  of  them 
covered  with  grass,  others  rugged  and  unproductive. 
He  threw  himself  down  in  the  clover,  a  short  distance 
from  the  stream,  and  straightway  felt  as  if  he  were 
miles  from  home.  No  shadow  of  life  was  to  be  seen. 
Cottage-chimney  nor  any  smoke  was  visible  —  no 
human  being,  no  work  of  human  hands,  no  sign  of 
cultivation  except  the  grass  and  clover. 

Now  whether  it  was  that  in  childhood  he  had 
learned  that  here  he  was  beyond  his  father's  land, 
43 


44  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

or  that  some  early  sense  of  loneliness  in  the  place 
had  been  developed  by  a  brooding  fancy  into  a  fixed 
feeling,  I  cannot  well  say ;  but  certainly,  as  often  as 
he  came  —  and  he  liked  to  visit  the  spot,  and  would 
sometimes  spend  hours  in  it  —  he  felt  like  a  hermit 
of  the  wilderness  cut  off  from  human  society,  and 
was  haunted  with  a  vague  sense  of  neighbouring 
hostility.  Probably  it  came  of  an  historical  fancy 
that  the  nook  ought  to  be  theirs,  combined  with  the 
sense  that  it  was  not.  But  there  had  been  no  injury 
done  ab  extra:  the  family  had  suffered  from  the 
inherent  moral  lack  of  certain  of  its  individuals. 

This  sense  of  away-from-homeness,  however,  was 
not  strong  enough  to  keep  Cosmo  from  falling  into 
such  a  dreamful  reverie  as  by  degrees  naturally  ter- 
minated in  slumber.  Seldom  is  sleep  far  from  one 
who  lies  on  his  back  in  the  grass,  with  the  sound  of 
waters  in  his  ears.  And  indeed  a  sleep  in  the  open 
air  was  almost  an  essential  ingredient  of  a  holiday 
such  as  Cosmo  had  been  accustomed  to  make  of  his 
birthday  :  constantly  active  as  his  mind  was,  perhaps 
in  part  because  of  that  activity,  he  was  ready  to  fall 
asleep  any  moment  when  warm  and  supine. 

When  he  woke  from  what  seemed  a  dreamless 
sleep,  his  half  roused  senses  were  the  same  moment 
called  upon  to  render  him  account  of  something  very 
extraordinary  which  they  could  not  themselves  im- 
mediately lay  hold  of.  Though  the  sun  was  yet  some 
distance  above  the  horizon,  it  was  to  him  behind  one 
of  the  hills,  as  he  lay  with  his  head  low  in  the  grass  ; 
and  what  could  the  strange  thing  be  which  he  saw  on 
the  crest  of  the  height  before  him,  on  the  other  side 


AN    AFTERNOON    SLEEP. 


45 


of  the  water  ?  Was  it  a  fire  in  a  grate,  thinned  away 
by  the  sunlight  ?  How  could  there  be  a  grate  where 
there  was  neither  house  nor  wall  ?  Even  in  heraldry 
the  combination  he  beheld  would  have  been  a  strange 
one.  There  stood  in  fact  a  frightful-looking  creat- 
ure half  consumed  in  light  —  yet  a  pale  light,  seem- 
ingly not  strong  enough  to  burn.  It  could  not  be  a 
phoenix,  for  he  saw  no  wings,  and  thought  he  saw 
four  legs.  Suddenly  he  burst  out  laughing,  and 
laughed  that  the  hills  echoed.  His  sleep-blinded 
eyes  had  at  length  found  their  focus  and  clarity. 

"  I  see  !  "  he  said,  "  I  see  what  it  is  !  It's  Jeames 
Gracie's  coo  'at's  been  loupin'  ower  the  mune,  an's 
stucken  upo'  't !  " 

In  very  truth  there  was  the  moon  between  the  legs 
of  the  cow  !  She  did  not  remain  there  long  however, 
but  was  soon  on  the  cow's  back,  as  she  crept  up  and 
up  in  the  face  of  the  sun.  He  bethought  him  of  a 
couplet  that  Grizzle  had  taught  him  when  he  was  a 
child  : 

Whan  the  coo  loups  ower  the  mune, 
The  reid  gowd  rains  intil  men's  shune. 

And  in  after-life  he  thought  not  unfrequently  of  this 
odd  vision  he  had  had.  Often,  when,  having  im- 
agined he  had  solved  some  difficulty  of  faith  or 
action,  presently  the  same  would  return  in  a  new 
shape,  as  if  it  had  but  taken  the  time  necessary  to 
change  its  garment,  he  would  say  to  himself  with  a 
sigh,  "  The  coo's  no  ower  the  mune  yet !  "  and  set 
himself  afresh  to  the  task  of  shaping  a  handle  on  the 
infinite    small    enough    for  a  finite  to  lay  hold  of. 


46  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


Grizzle,  who  was  out  looking  for  him,  heard  the 
roar  of  his  laughter,  and,  guided  by  the  sound,  spied 
him  where  he  lay.  He  heard  her  footsteps,  but 
never  stirred  till  he  saw  her  looking  down  upon  him 
like  a  benevolent  gnome  that  had  found  a  friendless 
mortal  asleep  on  ground  of  danger. 

"  Eh,  Cosmo,  laddie,  ye'll  get  yer  deid  o'  caul'  !  " 
she  cried.  "  An'  preserve's  a'  !  what  set  ye  lauchin' 
in  sic  a  fearsome  fashion  as  yon  ?  Ye're  surely  no 
fey !  " 

"  Na,  I'm  no  fey,  Grizzle  !  Ye  wad  hae  lauchen 
yersel'  to  see  Jeames  Grade's  coo  wi'  the  mune 
atween  the  hin'  an'  the  fore  legs  o'  her.  It  was  ter- 
rible funny." 

"  Hoots  !  I  see  naething  to  lauch  at  i'  that.  The 
puir  coo  cudna  help  whaur  the  mune  wad  gang.  The 
haivenly  boadies  is  no  to  be  restricket." 

Again  Cosmo  burst  into  a  great  laugh,  and  this 
time  Grizzle,  seriously  alarmed  lest  he  should  be  in 
reality  fey^  grew  angry,  and  seizing  hold  of  him  by 
the  arm,  pulled  lustily. 

"  Get  up,  I  tell  ye  !  "  she  cried.  "  Here's  the 
laird  speirin'  what's  come  o'  ye,  'at  ye  come  na  hame 
to  yer  tay." 

But  Cosmo  instead  of  rising  only  laughed  the 
more,  and  went  on  until  at  length  Grizzle  made  use 
of  a  terrible  threat. 

"  As  sure's  sowens !  "  she  said,  "  glen  ye  dinna 
hand  yer  tongue  wi'  that  menseless-like  lauchin',  I'll 
no  tell  ye  anither  auld-warld  tale  afore  Marti'mas." 

"  Will  ye  tell  me  ane  the  nicht  gien  I  haud  my 
tongue  an'  gang  hame  wi'  ye  ?  " 


AN    AFTERNOON    SLEEP.  47 

"Ay,  that  wull  I  —  that's  gien  I  can  min'  upo' 
ane." 

He  rose  at  once,  and  laughed  no  more.  They 
walked  home  together  in  the  utmost  peace. 

After  tea,  his  father  went  out  with  him  for  a  stroll, 
and  to  call  on  Jeames  Gracie,  the  owner  of  the  cow 
whose  inconstellation  had  so  much  amused  him.  He 
was  an  old  man,  with  an  elderly  wife,  and  a  grand- 
daughter—  a  weaver  to  trade,  whose  father  and 
grandfather  before  him  had  for  many  a  decade  done 
the  Weaving  work,  both  in  linen  and  wool,  required  by 
"them  at  the  castle."  He  had  been  on  the  land,  in 
the  person  of  his  ancestors,  from  time  almost  imme- 
morial, though  he  had  only  a  small  cottage,  and  a 
little  bit  of  land,  barely  enough  to  feed  the  translunar 
cow.  But  poor  little  place  as  Jeames's  was,  if  the 
laird  would  have  sold  it  the  price  would  have  gone  a 
good  way  towards  clearing  the  rest  of  his  property  of 
its  encumbrances.  For  the  situation  of  the  little 
spot  was  such  as  to  make  it  specially  desirable  in  the 
eyes  of  the  next  proprietor,  on  the  border  of  whose 
land  it  lay.  He  was  a  lord  of  session,  and  had  taken 
his  title  from  the  place,  which  he  inherited  from  his 
father ;  who,  although  a  laird,  had  been  so  little  of  a 
gentleman,  that  the  lordship  had  not  been  enough  to 
make  one  of  his  son.  He  was  yet  another  of  those 
trim,  orderly  men,  who  will  sacrifice  anything  —  not 
to  beauty  —  of  that  they  have  in  general  no  sense  — 
but  to  tidiness  :  tidiness  in  law,  in  divinity,  in  morals, 
in  estate,  in  garden,  in  house,  in  person  —  tidiness  is 
in  their  eyes  the  first  thing  —  seemingly  because  it  is 
the  highest  creative  energy  of  which  they  are  capa- 


48  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ble.  Naturally  the  dwelling  of  James  Gracie  was  an 
eyesore  to  this  man,  being  visible  from  not  a  few  of 
his  windows,  and  from  almost  anywhere  on  the 
private  road  to  his  house  ;  for  decidedly  it  was  not 
tidy.  Neither  in  truth  was  it  dirty,  while  to  any  life- 
loving  nature  it  was  as  pleasant  to  know,  as  it  was 
picturesque  to  look  at.  But  the  very  appearance  of 
poverty  seems  to  act  as  a  reproach  on  some  of  the 
rich  —  at  least  why  else  are  they  so  anxious  to  get  it 
out  of  their  sight?  —  and  Lord  Lickmyloof  —  that 
was  not  his  real  title,  but  he  was  better  known  by  it 
than  by  the  name  of  his  land  :  it  came  of  a  nasty 
habit  he  had,  which  I  need  not  at  present  indicate 
farther — Lord  Lickmyloof  could  not  bear  the  sight 
of  the  cottage  which  no  painter  would  have  consented 
to  omit  from  the  landscape.  It  haunted  him  like  an 
evil  thing. 


COSMO   ON    HIS   WAY   TO   SCHOOL. 


50 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE   SCHOOL. 


P 


The  next  morning,  by  the  steep  farm  road,  and  the 
parish  road,  which  ran  along  the  border  of  the  river 
and  followed  it  downward,  Cosmo,  on  his  way  to 
school,  with  his  books  in  a  green  baize  bag,  hung  by 
the  strings  over  his  shoulder,  came  out  from  among 
the  hills  upon  a  comparative  plain.  But  there  were 
hills  on  all  sides  round  him  yet  —  not  very  high  — 
few  of  them  more  than  a  couple  of  thousand  feet  — 
but  bleak  and  bare,  even  under  the  glow  of  the 
summer  sun,  for  the  time  of  heather  was  not  yet,  when 
they  would  show  warm  and  rich  to  the  eye  of  poet  and 
painter.  Most  of  the  farmers  there,  however,  would 
have  felt  a  little  insulted  by  being  asked  to  admire 
them  at  any  time :  whatever  their  colour  or  shape  or 
product,  they  were  incapable  of  yielding  crops  and 
money  !  In  truth  many  a  man  who  now  admires,  would 
be  unable  to  do  so,  if,  like  those  farmers,  he  had 
to  struggle  with  nature  for  little  more  than  a  bare 
living.  The  struggle  there,  what  with  early,  long- 
51 


52  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

lasting,  and  bitter  winters,  and  the  barrenness  of  the 
soil  in  many  parts,  was  a  severe  one. 

Leaving  the  river,  the  road  ascended  a  little,  and 
joined  the  highway,  which  kept  along  a  level,  con- 
sisting mostly  of  land  lately  redeemed  from  the 
peat-moss.  It  went  straight  for  two  miles,  fenced 
from  the  fields  in  many  parts  by  low  stone  walls 
without  mortar,  abhorrent  to  the  eye  of  Cosmo;  in 
other  parts  by  walls  of  earth,  called  dykes,  which- 
delighted  his  very  soul.  These*  were  covered  with 
grass  for  the  vagrant  cow,  sprinkled  with  loveliest  little 
wild  flowers  for  the  poet-peasant,  burrowed  in  by  wild 
bees  for  the  adventurous  delight  of  the  honey-drawn 
school-boy.  Glad  I  am  they  had  not  quite  vanished 
from  Scotland  before  I  was  sent  thither,  but  re- 
mained to  help  me  get  ready  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven :  those  dykes  must  still  be  dear  to  my  brothers 
who  have  gone  up  before  me.  Some  of  the  fields 
had  only  a  small  ditch  between  them  and  the  road, 
and  some  of  them  had  no  kind  of  fence  at  all.  It 
was  a  dreary  road  even  in  summer,  though  not  there- 
fore without  its  loveable  features — amongst  which 
the  dykes;  and  wherever  there  is  anything  to  love, 
there  is  beauty  in  some  form. 

A  short  way  past  the  second  milestone,  he  came  to. 
the  first  straggling  houses  of  the  village.  It  was 
called  Muir  of  Warlock,  after  the  moor  on  which  it 
stood,  as  the  moor  was  called  after  the  river  that  ran 
through  it,  and  that  named  after  the  glen,  which  took 
its  name  from  the  family — so  that  the  Warlocks  had 
scattered  their  cognomen  all  around  them.  A  some- 
what dismal-looking  village  it  was  —  except  to  those 


THE    SCHOOL.  53 


that  knew  its  people :  to  some  of  such  it  was  beauti- 
ful —  as  the  plainest  face  is  beautiful  to  him  who 
knows  a  sweet  soul  inside  it.  The  highway  ran 
through  it  —  a  broad  fine  road,  fit  for  the  richest 
country  under  the  sun ;  but  the  causeway  along  its 
edges,  making  of  it  for  the  space  a  street,  was  of  the 
poorest  and  narrowest.  Some  of  the  cottages  stood 
immediately  upon  the  path,  some  of  them  receded  a 
little.  They  were  almost  all  of  one  story,  built  of 
stone,  and.  rough-cast  —  harled^  they  called  it  there, 
with  roofs  of  thick  thatch,  in  which  a  half  smothered 
pane  of  glass  might  hint  at  some  sort  of  room  beneath. 
As  Cosmo  walked  along,  he  saw  all  the  trades  at 
work  ;  from  blacksmith  to  tailor,  everybody  was  busy. 
Now  and  then  he  was  met  by  a  strong  scent,  as  of 
burning  leather,  from  the  oak-bark  which  some  of 
the  housewives  used  for  fuel,  after  its  essence  had 
been  exhausted  in  the  tan-pit,  but  mostly  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  odour  of  burning  peat.  Cosmo  knew 
almost  everybody,  and  was  kindly  greeted  as  he  went 
along — none  the  less  that  some  of  them,  hearing 
from  their  children  that  he  had  not  been  to  school 
the  day  before,  had  remarked  that  his  birthday  hardly 
brought  him  enough  to  keep  it  with.  The  vulgarity 
belonging  to  the  worship  of  Mammon,  is  by  no  means 
confined  to  the  rich ;  many  of  these,  having  next  to 
nothing,  yet  thought  profession  the  one  thing,  money, 
houses,  lands  the  only  inheritances.  It  is  a  marvel 
that  even  world-loving  people  should  never  see  with 
what  a  load  they  oppress  the  lives  of  the  children  to 
whom,  instead  of  bringing  them  up  to  earn  their  own 
living,  and  thus  enjoy  at  least  the  game  of  life,  they 


54  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

leave  a  fortune  enough  to  sink  a  devil  yet  deeper  in 
hell.  Was  it  nothing  to  Cosmo  to  inherit  a  long  line 
of  ancestors  whose  story  he  knew  —  their  virtues, 
their  faults,  their  wickedness,  their  humiliation  ?  —  to 
inherit  the  nobility  of  a  father  such  as  his?  the 
graciousness  of  a  mother  such  as  that  father  caused 
him  to  remember  her?  Was  there  no  occasion  for 
the  laird  to  rejoice  in  the  birth  of  a  boy  whom  he  be- 
lieved to  have  inherited  all  the  virtues  of  his  race, 
and  left  all  their  vices  behind  ?  But  none  of  the  vil- 
lagers forgot,  however  they  might  regard  the  holiday, 
that  Cosmo  was  the  "  yoong  laird  "  notwithstanding 
the  poverty  of  his  house ;  and  they  all  knew  that  in 
old  time  the  birthday  of  the  heir  had  been  a  holiday 
to  the  school  as  well  as  to  himself,  and  remembered  the 
introduction  of  the  change  by  the  present  master. 
Indeed,  throughout  the  village,  although  there  were 
not  a  few  landed  proprietors  in  the  neighbourhood 
whose  lands  came  nearer,  all  of  whom  of  course  were 
lairds,  and  although  the  village  itself  had  ceased  to 
belong  to  the  family,  Glenwarlock  was  always  called 
the  laird  ;  and  the  better  part  in  the  hearts  of  even 
the  money-loving  and  money-trusting  among  its  inhab- 
itants, honoured  him  as  the  best  man  in  the  country, 
"  thof  he  hed  sae  little  skeel  at  haudin'  his  ain  nest 
thegither ; "  and  though,  besides,  there  is  scarce  a 
money-making  man  who  does  not  believe  poverty  the 
cousin,  if  not  the  child  of  fault ;  and  the  more  unscru- 
pulous, within  the  law ^  a  man  has  been  in  making  his 
money,  the  more  he  regards  the  man  who  seems  to 
have  lost  the  race  he  has  won,  as  somehow  or  other 
to  blame  :     "  People  with  naught  are  naughty."     Nor 


THE    SCHOOL.  55 


is  this  judgment  confined  to  the  morally  unscrupu- 
lous. Few  who  are  themselves  permitted  to  be  suc- 
cessful, care  to  conjecture  that  it  may  be  the  will  of 
the  power,  that  in  part  through  their  affairs,  rules  men, 
that  some  should  be,  in  that  way,  unsuccessful :  better 
can  be  made  of  them  by  preventing  the  so-called  suc- 
cess. Some  men  rise  with  the  treatment  under 
which  others  would  sink.  But  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Muir  of  Warlock,  only  a  rather  larger  proportion  than 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Mayfair  would  have  taken  in- 
terest in  such  a  theory  of  results. 

They  all  liked,  and  those  who  knew  him  best,  loved 
the  young  laird  ;  for  if  he  had  no  lands,  neither  had 
he  any  pride,  they  said,  and  was  as  happy  sitting  with 
any  old  woman,  and  sharing  her  tea,  as  at  a  lord's 
table.  Nor  was  he  less  of  a  favourite  at  school, 
though,  being  incapable  of  self-assertion,  his  inborn 
consciousness  of  essential  humanity  rendering  it  next 
to  impossible  for  him  to  claim  anything,  some  of  the 
bigger  boys  were  less  than  friendly  with  him.  One 
point  in  his  conduct  was  in  particular  distasteful  to 
them  :  he  seemed  to  scorn  even  an  honest  advantage. 
For  in  truth  he  never  could  bring  himself,  in  the 
small  matters  of  dealing  that  pass  betw^een  boys  at 
school,  to  make  the  least  profit.  He  had  a  passion 
for  fair  play,  which,  combined  with  love  to  his  neigh- 
bour, made  of  an  advantage,  though  perfectly  under- 
stood and  recognized,  almost  a  physical  pain :  he 
shrank  from  it  with  something  like  disgust.  I  may 
not,  however,  conceal  my  belief,  that  there  was  in  it  a 
rudimentary  tinge  of  the  pride  of  those  of  his  ances- 
tors who  looked  down  upon  commerce,  though  not 


56  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

upon  oppression,  or  even  on  robbery.  But  the  true 
man  will  change  to  nobility  even  the  instincts  derived 
from  strains  of  inferior  moral  development  in  his  race 
—  as  the  oyster  makes,  they  say,  of  the  sand-grain  a 
pearl. 

Greeting  the  tailor  through  his  open  window, 
where  he  sat  cross-legged  on  his  table,  the  shoemaker 
on  his  stool,  which,  this  lovely  summer  morning,  he 
had  brought  to  the  door  of  his  cottage,  and  the  smith 
in  his  nimbus  of  sparks,  through  the  half-door  of  his 
smithy,  and  receiving  from  each  a  kindly  response, 
the  boy  walked  steadily  on  till  he  came  to  the  school. 
There,  on  the  heels  of  the  master,  the  boys  and  girls 
were  already  crowding  in,  and  he  entered  along  with 
them.  The  religious  preliminaries  over,  consisting  in 
a  dry  and  apparently  grudging  recognition  of  a  sov- 
ereignty that  required  the  homage,  and  the  reading 
of  a  chapter  of  the  Bible  in  class,  the  secular  business 
was  proceeded  with  ;  and  Cosmo  was  sitting  with  his 
books  before  him,  occupied  with  a  hard  passage  in 
Ccesar,  when  the  master  left  his  desk  and  came  to 
him. 

"You^ll  have  to  make  up  for  lost  time  to-day, 
Cosmo,"  he  said. 

Now  if  anything  was  certain  to  make  Cosmo  angry, 
it  was  the  appearance,  however  slight,  or  however 
merely  implied,  of  disapproval  of  anything  his  father 
thought,  or  did,  or  sanctioned.  His  face  flushed,  and 
he  answered  quickly, 

"  The  time  wasn't  lost,  sir." 

This  reply  made  the  master  in  his  turn  angry,  but 
he  restrained  himself. 


THE   SCHOOL. 


57 


"  I'm  glad  of  that !  I  may  then  expect  to  find  you 
prepared  with  your  lessons  for  to-day." 

"  I  learned  my  lessons  for  yesterday,"  Cosmo  an- 
swered ;  "  but  my  father  says  it's  no  play  to  learn 
lessons." 

"  Your  father's  not  master  of  this  school." 

"  He's  maister  o'  me,"  returned  the  boy,  relapsing 
into  the  mother-tongue,  which,  except  it  be  spoken  in 
good  humour,  always  sounds  rude. 

The  master  took  the  youth's  devotion  to  his  father 
for  insolence  to  himself. 

"  I  shall  say  no  more,"  he  rejoined,  still  using  the 
self-command  which  of  all  men  an  autocrat  requires, 
"  till  I  find  how  you  do  in  your  class.  That  you  are 
the  best  scholar  in  it,  is  no  reason  why  you  should  be 
allowed  to  idle  away  hours  in  which  you  might  have 
been  laying  up  store  for  the  time  to  come."  —  It  was 
a  phrase  much  favoured  by  the  master  —  in  present 
application  foolish.  —  "  But  perhaps  your  father  does 
not  mean  to  send  you  to  college  ?  " 

"  My  father  hasna  said,  an'  I  haena  speirt,"  an- 
swered Cosmo,  with  his  eyes  on  his  book. 

Still  misinterpreting  the  boy,  the  conceit  and  ill- 
temper  of  the  master  now  overcame  him,  and  caused 
him  to  forget  the  proprieties  altogether. 

"  Haud  on  that  gait,  laddie,  an'  ye'U  be  as  great  a 
fule  as  yer  father  himsel',"  he  said. 

Cosmo  rose  from  his  seat,  white  as  the  wall  behind 
him,  looked  in  the  master's  eyes,  caught  up  his 
Ccesar,  and  dashed  the  book  in  his  face.  Most  boys 
would  then  have  made  for  the  door,  but  that  was  not 
Cosmo's   idea  of  bearing  witness.     The  moment  the 


58  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

book  left  his  hand,  he  drew  himself  up,  stood  still  as 
a  statue,  looked  full  at  the  master,  and  waited.  Not 
by  a  motion  would  he  avoid  any  consequence  of  his 
act. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  A  corner  of  the  book 
had  gone  into  the  master's  eye  ;  he  clapped  his  hand 
to  it,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  lost  in  suffering. 
The  next,  he  clenched  for  the  boy  a  man's  fist,  and 
knocked  him  down.  Cosmo  fell  backward  over  the 
form,  struck  his  head  hard  on  the  foot  of  the  next 
desk,  and  lay  where  he  fell. 

A  shriek  arose,  and  a  girl  about  sixteen  came  rush- 
ing up.  She  was  the  grand-daughter  of  James 
Gracie,  befriended  of  the  laird. 

"Go  to  your  seat,  Agnes!"  shouted  the  master, 
and  turning  from  her,  stood,  with  his  handkerchief  to 
one  eye,  looking  down  on  the  boy.  So  little  did  he 
know  him,  he  suspected  him  of  pretending  to  be 
more  hurt  than  he  was. 

"Touch  me  gien  ye  daur,"  cried  Agnes,  as  she 
stooped  to  remove  his  legs  from  the  form. 

"  Leave  him  alone,"  shouted  the  master,  and  seiz- 
ing her,  pulled  her  away,  and  flung  her  from  him 
that  she  almost  fell. 

But  by  this  time  the  pain  in  his  eye  had  subsided  a 
little,  and  he  began  to  doubt  whether  indeed  the  boy 
was  pretending  as  he  had  imagined.  He  began  also 
to  feel  not  a  little  uneasy  as  to  the  possible  conse- 
quences of  his  hasty  act  —  not  half  so  uneasy,  how- 
ever, as  he  would  have  felt,  had  the  laird  been  as 
well-to-do  as  his  neighbour,  Lord  Lickmyloof  —  who 
would  be  rather  pleased  than  otherwise,  the  master 


THE    SCHOOL.  59 


► 


thought,  at  any  grief  that  might  befall  either  Cosmo 
or  the  lass  Gracie.  Therefore,  although  he  would 
have  been  ready  to  sink  had  the  door  then  opened 
and  the  laird  entered,  he  did  not  much  fear  any  con- 
sequences to  be  counted  serious  from  the  unexpected 
failure  of  his  self-command.  He  dragged  the  boy  up 
by  the  arm,  and  set  him  on  his  seat,  before  Agnes 
could  return ;  but  his  face  was  as  that  of  one  dead, 
and  he  fell  forward  on  the  desk.  With  a  second 
great  cry,  Agnes  again  sprang  forward.  She  was  a 
strong  girl,  accustomed  to  all  kinds  of  work,  out-door 
and  in-door.  She  caught  Cosmo  round  the  waist 
from  behind,  pulled  him  from  the  seat,  and  drew  him 
to  the  door,  which  because  of  the  heat  stood  open. 
The  master  had  had  enough  of  it,  and  did  not  at- 
tempt to  hinder  her.  There  she  took  him  in  her 
arms,  and  literally  ran  with  him  along  the  street. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

grannie's  cottage. 

But  she  had  not  to  pass  many  houses  before  she 
came  to  that  of  her  grandfather's  mother,  an  aged 
woman,  I  need  not  say,  but  in  very  tolerable  health  and 
strength  nevertheless.  She  sat  at  her  spinning  wheel, 
with  her  door  wide  open.  Suddenly,  and,  to  her 
dulled  sense,  noiselessly,  Aggie  came  staggering  in  with 
her  burden.  She  dropped  him  on  the  old  woman's 
bed,  and  herself  on  the  floor,  her  heart  and  lungs 
going  wildly. 

"  I'  the  name  o'  a' !  "  cried  her  great-grandmother, 
stopping  her  wheel,  breaking  her  thread,  and  letting 
the  end  twist  madly  up  amongst  the  revolving  iron 
teeth,  emerging  from  the  mist  of  their  own  speed,  in 
which  a  moment  before  they  had  looked  ethereal  as 
the  vibration-film  of  an  insect's  wings. 

She  rose  with  a  haste  marvellous  for  her  years,  and 
approaching,  looked  down  on  the  prostrate  form  of 
the  girl. 

**  It  can  never  be  my  ain  Aggie,"  she  faltered,  "  to 
60 


grannie's  cottage.  6 1 

rush  intil  my  quaiet  hoose  that  gait,  fling  a  man  upo' 
my  bed,  an'  fa'  her  len'th  upo'  my  flure !  " 

But  Agnes  was  not  yet  able  to  reply.  She  could 
only  sign  with  her  hand  to  the  bed,  which  she  did 
with  such  energy  that  her  great-grandmother  —  Gran- 
nie^ she  called  her,  as  did  the  whole  of  the  village  — 
turned  at  once  thitherward.  She  could  not  see  well, 
and  the  box-bed  was  dark,  so  she  did  not  at  first  rec- 
ognize Cosmo,  but  the  moment  she  suspected  who 
it  was,  she  too  uttered  a  cry  —  the  cry  of  old  age, 
feeble  and  wailful. 

"  The  michty  be  ower  's !  what's  come  to  my 
bairn  t  "  she  said. 

"  The  maister  knockit  him  doon,"  gasped  Agnes. 

"  Eh,  lassie  !  rin  for  the  doctor." 

"  No,"  came  feebly  from  the  bed.  "  I  dinna  want 
ony  notice  ta'en  o'  the  business." 

"  Are  ye  sair  hurtit,  my  bairn  ?  "  asked  the  old 
woman. 

"  My  heid's  some  sair  an'  throughither-like ;  but 
I'll  just  lie  still  a  wee,  and  syne  I'll  be  able  to  gang 
hame.  I'm  some  sick.  I  winna  gang  back  to  the 
school  the  day." 

"  Na,  my  bonnie  man,  that  ye  sanna  !  "  cried  Gran- 
nie, in  a  tone  mingled  of  pity  and  indignation. 

A  moment  more,  and  Agnes  rose  from  the  earth, 
for  earth  it  was,  quite  fresh  ;  and  the  two  did  all  they 
could  to  make  him  comfortable.  Aggie  would  have 
gone  at  once  to  let  his  father  know ;  she  was  per- 
fectly able,  she  said,  and  in  truth  seemed  nothing  the 
worse  for  her  fierce  exertion.  But  Cosmo  said,  "  Bide 
a  wee,  Aggie,  an'  we'll  gang  hame  thegither.     I'll  be 


62 


better  in  twa  or  three  minutes."  But  he  did  not  get 
better  so  fast  as  he  expected,  and  the  only  condition 
on  which  Grannie  would  consent  not  to  send  for  the 
doctor,  was,  that  Agnes  should  go  and  tell  his  father. 

"  But  eh,  Aggie  !  "  said  Cosmo,  "  dinna  lat  him 
think  there's  onything  to  be  fleyt  aboot.  It's  nae- 
thing  but  a  gey  knap  o'  the  held ;  an'  I'm  sure  the 
maister  didna  inten'  duin  me  ony  sarious  hurt.  —  But 
my  father's  sure  to  gie  him  fair  play !  —  he  gies  a' 
body  fair  play." 

Agnes  set  out,  and  Cosmo  fell  asleep. 

He  slept  a  long  time,  and  woke  better.  She  hur- 
ried to  Glenwarlock,  and  in  the  yard  found  the 
laird. 

"  Weel,  lassie !  "  he  said,  "  what  brings  ye  here 
this  time  o'  day  ?  What  for  are  ye  no  at  the  school  ? 
Ye'll  hae  little  eneuch  o'  't  by  an'  by,  whan  the  hairst 
's  come." 

"  It's  the  yoong  laird  !  "  said  Aggie,  and  stopped. 

"  What's  come  till  .'im  ?  "  asked  the  laird,  'in  the 
sharpened  tone  of  anxiety. 

"  It's  no  muckle,  he  says  himsel'.  But  his  heid's 
some  sair  yet." 

"  What  maks  his  heid  sair  ?  He  was  weel  eneuch 
whan  he  gaed  this  mornin'." 

"  The  maister  knockit  'im  doon." 

The  laird  started  as  if  one  had  struck  him  in  the 
face.  The  blood  reddened  his  forehead,  and  his  old 
eyes  flashed  like  two  stars.  All  the  battle-fury  of  the 
old  fighting  race  seemed  to  swell  up  from  ancient 
fountains  amongst  the  unnumbered  roots  of  his  being, 
and  rush  to  his  throbbing  brain,     He  clenched  his 


grannie's  cottage.  63 

withered  fist,  drew  himself  up  straight,  and  made  his 
knees  strong.  For  a  moment  he  felt  as  in  the  prime 
of  life  and  its  pride.  The  next  his  fist  relaxed,  his 
hand  fell  by  his  side,  and  he  bowed  his  head. 

"  The  Lord  hae  mercy  upo'  me  ! "  he  murmured. 
"  I  was  near  takin'  the  affairs  o'  ane  o'  his  into  my 
han's !  " 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  wrinkled  hands,  and 
the  girl  stood  beside  him  in  awe-filled  silence.  But 
she  did  not  quite  comprehend,  and  was  troubled  at 
seeing  him  stand  thus  motionless.  In  the  trembling 
voice  of  one  who  would  comfort  her  superior,  she 
said, 

"  Dinna  greit,  laird.  He'll  be  better,  I'm  thinkin', 
afore  ye  win  till  'im.  It  was  Grannie  gart  me  come 
—  no  him." 

Speechless  the  laird  turned,  and  without  even  en- 
tering the  house,  walked  away  to  go  to  the  village. 
He  had  reached  the  valley-road  before  he  discovered 
that  Agnes  was  behind  him. 

"  Dinna  ye  come,  Aggie,"  he  said ;  "  ye  may  be 
wantit  at  hame." 

"Ye  dinna  think  I  wad  ley  ye,  laird!  —  'cep' ye 
was  to  think  fit  to  sen'  me  frea  ye.  I'm  maist  as 
guid's  a  man  to  gang  wi'  ye — wi'  the  advantage  o' 
bein'  awuman,  asVny  mither  tells  me:"  —  She  called 
her  grandmother,  mother.  —  "  ye  see  we  can  daur  mair 
nor  ony  man — but,  Guid  forgie  me! — no  mair  nor 
the  yoong  laird  whan  he  flang  his  Ccesar  straucht  i' 
the  maister's  face  this  verra  mornin'." 

The  laird  stopped,  turned  sharply  round,  and 
looked  at  her. 


64  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  What  did  he  that  for  ?  "  he  said. 

"  'Cause  he  ca'd  yersel'  a  fule,"  answered  the  girl, 
with  the  utmost  simplicity,  and  no  less  reverence. 

The  laird  drew  himself  up  once  more,  and  looked 
twenty  years  younger.  But  it  was  not  pride  that  in- 
spired him,  nor  indignation,  but  the  father's  joy  at 
finding  in  his  son  his  champion. 

"Mony  ane's  ca'd  me  that,  I  weel  believe,  lassie, 
though  no  to  my  ain  face  or  that  o'  my  bairn.  But 
whether  I  deserve't  or  no,  nane  but  ane  kens.  It's 
no  by  the  word  o'  man  I  stan'  or  fa' ;  but  it's  hoo  my 
maister  luiks  upo'  my  puir  endeevour  to  gang  by  the 
thing  he  says.  Min'  this,  lassie  —  lat  fowk  say  as 
they  like,  but  du  ye  as  he  likes,  an',  or  a'  be  dune, 
they'll  be  upo'  their  k-nees  to  ye.  An'  sae  they'll  be 
yet  to  my  bairn  —  though  I'm  some  tribbled  he  sud 
hae  saired  the  maister  —  e'en  as  he  deserved." 

"  What  cud  he  du,  sir  ?  It  was  na  for  himsel'  he 
strack  !  An'  syne  he  never  muved  an  inch,  but  stud 
there  like  a  rock,  an'  liftit  no  a  han'  to  defen'  himsel', 
but  jist  loot  the  maister  tak  his  wull  o'  'im." 

The  pair  tramped  swiftly  along  the  road,  heeding 
nothing  on  either  hand  as  they  went,  Aggie  lithe  and 
active,  the  laird  stooping  greatly  in  his  forward 
anxiety  to  see  his  injured  boy,  but  walking  much 
faster  "  than  his  age  afforded."  ;^efore  they  reached 
the  village,  the  mid-day  recess  had  come,  and  every- 
body knew  what  had  happened.  Loud  were  most  in 
praise  of  the  boy's  behaviour,  and  many  were  the 
eyes  that  from  window  and  door  watched  the  laird,  as 
he  hurried  down  the  street  to  "  Grannie's,"  where  all 
had  learned  the  young  laird  was  lying.     But  no  one 


grannie's  cottage.  65 

spoke,  or  showed  that  he  was  looking,  and  the  laird 
walked  straight  on  with  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 
glancing  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left ;  and 
as  did  the  laird,  so  did  Aggie. 

The  door  of  the  cottage  stood  open.  There  was  a 
step  down,  but  the  laird  knew  it  well.  Turning  to 
the  left  through  a  short  passage,  in  the  window  of 
which  stood  a  large  hydrangea,  over  two  wooden  pails 
of  water,  he  lifted  the  latch  of  the  inner  door,  bowed 
his  tall  head,  and  entered  the  room  where  lay  his 
darling.  With  a  bow  to  Grannie,  he  went  straight  up 
to  the  bed,  speedily  discovered  that  Cosmo  slept, 
and  stood  regarding  him  with  a  full  heart.  Who  can 
tell  but  him  who  knows  it,  how  much  more  it  is  to 
be  understood  by  one's  own,  than  by  all  the  world 
beside !  By  one's  own  one  learns  to  love  all  God's 
creatures,  and  from  one's  own  one  gets  strength  to 
meet  the  misprision  of  the  world. 

The  room  was  dark  though  it  was  summer,  and 
although  it  had  two  windows,  one  to  the  street,  and 
one  to  the  garden  behind  :  both  ceiling  and  floor 
were  of  a  dark  brown,  for  the  beams  and  boards  of 
the  one  were  old  and  interpenetrated  with  smoke,  and 
the  other  was  of  hard-beaten  clay,  into  which  also  was 
wrought  much  smoke  and  an  undefinable  blackness, 
while  the  windows  were  occupied  with  different  plants 
favoured  of  Grannie,  so  that  little  light  could  get  in, 
and  that  little  was  half-swallowed  by  the  general 
brownness.  A  tall  eight-day  clock  stood  in  one 
corner,  up  to  which,  whoever  would  learn  from  it  the 
time,  had  to  advance  confidentially,  and  consult  its 
face  on  tip-toe,  with  peering  eyes.     Beside  it  was  a 


66  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

beautifully  polished  chest  of  drawers  ;  a  nice  tea-table 
stood  in  the  centre,  and  some  dark-shiny  wooden 
chairs  against  the  walls.  A  closet  opened  at  the  head 
of  the  bed,  and  at  the  foot  of  it  was  the  door  of  the 
room  and  the  passage,  so  that  it  stood  in  a  recess,  to 
which  were  wooden  doors,  seldom  closed.  A  fire 
partly  of  peat,  partly  of  tan,  burned  on  the  little 
hearth. 

Cosmo  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  those  of  his  father 
looking  down  upon  him.  He  stretched  out  his  arms, 
and  drew  the  aged  head  upon  his  bosom.  His  heart 
was  too  full  to  speak. 

"  How  do  you  find  yourself,  my  boy  ? "  said  the 
father,  gently  releasing  himself.  "  I  know  all  about 
it;  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  tell  me  more 
than  just  how  you  are." 

"  Better,  father,  much  better,"  answered  Cosmo. 
"  But  there  is  one  thing  I  must  tell  you.  Just  before 
it  happened  we  were  reading  in  the  Bible-class  about 
Samson  —  how  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  him, 
and  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass  he  slew  ever  so  many 
of  the  Philistines  ;  and  when  the  master  said  that  bad 
word  about  you,  it  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  Lord 
came  upon  me ;  for  I  was  not  in  a  rage,  but  filled 
with  what  seemed  a  holy  indignation  ;  and  as  I  had 
no  ass's  jaw-bone  handy,  I  took  my  Ccesar,  and 
flung  it  as  hard  and  as  straight,  as  I  could  in  the 
master's  face.     But  I  am  not  so  sure  about  it  now." 

"  Tak  ye  nae  thoucht  anent  it,  Cosmo,  my  bairn," 
said  the  old  woman,  taking  up  the  word  ;  "  it's  no  a 
hair  ayont  what  he  deserved  'at  daured  put  sic  a 
word  to  the  best  man  in  a'  the  country.     By  the  ban* 


grannie's  cottage.  67 

o'  a  babe,  as  he  did  Goliah  o.'  Gath,  heth  the  Lord 
rebuked  the  enemy.  —  The  Lord  himsel'  's  upo'  your 
side,  laird,  to  gie  ye  siccan  a  brave  son." 

"  I  never  kent  him  lift  his  han'  afore,"  said  the 
laird,  as  if  he  would  fain  mitigate  judgment  on  youth- 
ful indiscretion,  —  "  excep'  it  was  to  the  Kirkmalloch 
bull,  when  he  ran  at  him  an'  me  as  gien  he  wad  hae 
pitcht  's  ower  the  wa'  o'  the  warl'." 

"The  mair  like  it  was  the  speerit  o'  the  Lord,  as 
the  bairn  himsel'  was  jaloosin,"  remarked  Grannie, 
in  a  tone  of  confidence  to  which  the  laird  was  ready 
enough  to  yield  ;  —  "  an'  whaur  the  speerit  o'  the 
Lord  is,  there's  leeberty,"  she  added,  thinking  less  of 
the  suitableness  of  the  quotation,  than  of  the  aptness 
of  words  in  it.  Glenwarlock  stooped  and  kissed  the 
face  of  his  son,  and  went  to  fetch  the  doctor.  Before 
he  returned,  Cosmo  was  asleep  again.  The  doctor 
would  not  have  him  waked.  From  his  pulse  and  the 
character  of  his  sleep  he  judged  he  was  doing  well. 
He  had  heard  all  about  the  affair  before,  but  heard 
all  now  as  for  the  first  time,  assured  the  laird  there 
was  no  danger,  said  he  would  call  again,  and  recom- 
mended him  to  go  home.  The  boy  must  remain 
where  he  was  for  the  night,  he  said,  and  if  the  least 
ground  for  uneasiness  should  show  itself,  he  would 
ride  over,  and  make  his  report. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  returned  the  laird  : 
"  it  would  be  trouble  and  inconvenience  to  Grannie." 

"  'Deed,  laird,  ye  sud  be  ashamt  to  say  sic  a  thing : 
it'll  be  naething  o'  the  kin' !  "  cried  the  old  woman. 
"Here  he  s'  bide — wi'  yer  leave,  sir,  an'  no  muv  fiae 
whaur   he    lies  !     There's  anither  bed  i'  the  cloaset 


68  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

there.  But,  troth,  what  wi' the  rheumatics,  an'  —  an* 
— the  din  o'  the  rottans,  we  s'  ca'  't,  mony's  the  nicht 
I  gang  to  nae  bed  ava' ;  an'  to  hae  the  yoong  laird 
sleepin'  i'  my  bed,  an'  me  keepin'  watch  ower  'im,  'ill 
be  jist  like  haein'  an-  angel  i'  the  hoose  to  luik  efter. 
I'll  be  somebody  again  for  ae  nicht,  I  can  tell  ye! 
An'  oh !  it's  a  lang  time,  sir,  sin'  I  was  onybody  i' 
this  warl' !  I  houp  sair  they'll  hae  somethihg  for  auld 
fowk  to  du  i'  the  neist." 

"  Hoots,  mistress  Forsyth,"  returned  the  laird, 
"  the'  '11  be  naebody  auld  there ! " 

"  Hoo  am  I  to  win  in  than,  sir  ?  I'm  auld,  gien  ony- 
body ever  was  auld  !  An'  hoo's  yersel'  to  win  in,  sir 
— for  ye  maun  be  some  auld  yersel'  by  this  time,  thof 
I  min'  weel  yer  father  a  bit  loonie  in  a  tartan  kilt." 

"What  wad  ye  say  to  be  made  yoong  again,  auld 
frien'  ? "  suggested  the  laird,  with  a  smile  of  wonder- 
ful sweetness. 

"  Eh,  sir !  there's  naething  to  that  effec'  i'  the 
word." 

"  Hoot !  "  rejoined  the  laird,  "  wad  ye  hae  me 
plaguit  to  tell  the  laddie  there  a'  thing  I  wad  du  for 
him,  as  gien  he  hadna  a  hert  o'  his  ain  to  tell  'im  a 
score  o'  things  —  ay,  hun'ers  o'  things  ?  Dinna  ye 
ken  'at  the  speerit  o'  man  's  the  can'le  o'  the 
Lord  ? " 

"  But  sae  mony  for  a'  that  follows  but  their  ain 
fancies  !  —  That  ye  maun  alloo,  laird  ;  an'  what  comes 
o'  yer  can'le  than  .-*  " 

"  That'  sic  as  never  luik  whaur  the  licht  fa's,  but 
aye  some  ither  gait,  for  they  carena  to  walk  by  the 
same.     But  them  'at  orders  their  wy's  by  what  licht 


grannie's  cottage.  69 

they  hae,  there's  no  fear  o'  them.  Even  sud  they 
stummle,  they  sanna  fa'." 

"  'Deed,  laird,  I'm  thinkin'  ye  may  be  richt.  I  hae 
stummlet  mony's  the  time,  but  I'm  no  doon  yet ;  an' 
I  hae  a  guid  houp  'at  maybe,  puir  dissiple  as  I  am, 
the  Maister  may  lat  on  'at  he  kens  me,  whan  that 
great  and  terrible  day  o'  the  Lord  comes." 

Cosmo  began  to  stir.  His  father  went  to  the 
bed-side,  and  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  boy  was  better. 
He  told  him  what  the  doctor  had  decreed.  Cosmo 
said  he  was  quite  able  to  get  up  and  go  home  that 
minute.     But  his  father  would  not  hear  of  it. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  you  walking  back  all  that 
way  alone,  papa,"  objected  Cosmo. 

"  Ye  dinna  think,  Cosmo,"  interposed  Aggie,  "  'at 
I'm  gauin  to  lat  the  laird  gang  hame  himlane,  an'  me 
here  to  be  his  body-gaird  !  I  ken  my  duty  better  nor 
that." 

But  the  laird  did  not  go  till  they  had  all  had  tea  to- 
gether, and  the  doctor  had  again  come  and  gone,  and 
given  his  decided  opinion  that  all  Cosmo  needed  was 
a  little  rest,  and  that  he  would  be  quite  well  in  a  day 
or  two.  Then  at  length  his  father  left  him,  and,  com- 
forted, set  out  with  Aggie  for  Glenwarlock. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

DREAMS. 

The  gloamin'  came  down  much  sooner  in  Grannie's 
cottage  than  on  the  sides  of  the  eastward  hills,  but  the 
old  woman  made  up  her  little  fire,  and  it  glowed  a 
bright  heart  to  the  shadowy  place.  Though  the  room 
was  always  dusky,  it  was  never  at  this  season  quite 
dark  any  time  of  the  night.  It  was  not  absolutely 
needful,  except  for  the  little  cooking  required  by  the 
invalid  —  for  as  such,  in  her  pride  of  being  his  nurse, 
Grannie  regarded  him  —  but  she  welcomed  the  ex- 
cuse for  a  little  extra  warmth  to  her  old  limbs  during 
the  night  watches.  Then  she  sat  down  in  her  great 
chair,  and  all  was  still. 

"  What  for  arena  ye  spinnin'.  Grannie  ? "  said 
Cosmo.  "  I  like  fine  to  hear  the  wheel  singin'  like  a 
muckle  flee  upo'  the  winnock.  It  spins  i'  my  heid 
lang  lingles  o'  thouchts,  an'  dreams,  an'  wad-be's. 
Neist  to  hearin'  yersel'  tell  a  tale,  I  like  to  hear  yer 
wheel  gauin'.     It  has  a  w'y  o'  'ts  ain  wi'  me !  " 

"  I  was  feart  it  micht  vex  ye  wi'  the  soomin'  o'  't," 
70 


DREAMS.  7 1 


answered  Grannie,  and  as  she  spoke  she  rose,  and 
lighted  her  Uttle  lamp,  though  she  scarcely  needed 
light  for  her  spinning,  and  sat  down  to  her  wheel. 

For  a  long  unweary  time  Cosmo  lay  and  listened, 
an  aerial  Amphion,  building  castles  in  the  air  to  its 
music,  which  was  so  monotonous  that,  like  the  drone 
of  the  bag-pipes,  he  could  use  it  for  accompaniment 
to  any  dream-time  of  his  own. 

When  a  man  comes  to  trust  in  God  thoroughly,  he 
shrinks  from  castle-building,  lest  his  faintest  fancy 
should  run  counter  to  that  loveliest  Will ;  but  a  boy's 
dreams  are  nevertheless  a  part  of  his  education.  And 
the  true  heart  will  not  leave  the  blessed  conscience 
out,  even  in  its  dreams. 

Those  of  Cosmo  were  mostly  of  a  lovely  woman, 
much  older  than  himself,  who  was  kind  to  him,  and 
whom  he  obeyed  and  was  ready  to  serve  like  a 
slave.  These  came,  of  course,  first  of  all,  from 
the  heart  that  needed  and  delighted  in  the  thought 
of  a  mother,  but  they  were  bodied  out  from  the 
memory,  faint,  far-off,  and  dim,  of  his  own  mother, 
and  the  imaginations  of  her  roused  by  his  father's 
many  talks  with  him  concerning  her.  He  dreamed 
now  of  one,  now  of  another  beneficent  power,  of 
the  fire,  the  air,  the  earth,  or  the  water  —  each  of 
them  a  gracious  woman,  who  favoured,  helped,  and  pro- 
tected him,  through  dangers  and  trials  innumerable. 
Such  imaginings  may  be  —  nay  must  be  unhealthy  for 
those  who  will  not  attempt  the  right  in  the  face  of 
loss  and  pain  and  shame ;  but  to  those  v/ho  labour  in 
the  direction  of  their  own  ide^l,  dreams  will  do  no 
hurt,  but  foster  rather  the  ideal. 


72  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

"  When  at  length  the  spinning-wheel  ceased  with  its 
hum,  the  silence  was  to  Cosmo  like  the  silence  after 
a  song,  and  his  thoughts  refused  to  do  their  humming 
alone.  The  same  moment  he  fell  —  from  a  wondrous 
region  where  he  dwelt  with  sylphs  in  a  great  palace, 
built  on  the  tree-tops  of  a  forest  ages  old ;  where  the 
buxom  air  bathed  every  limb,  and  was  to  his  ethereal 
body  as  water  —  sensible  as  a  liquid ;  whose  every 
room  rocked  like  the  baby's  cradle  of  the  nursery 
rime,  but  equilibrium  was  the  merest  motion  of  the 
will ;  where  the  birds  nested  in  its  cellars,  and  the 
squirrels  ran  up  and  down  its  stairs,  and  the  wood- 
peckers pulled  themselves  along  its  columns  and 
rails  by  their  beaks ;  where  the  winds  swung  the 
whole  city  with  a  rhythmic  roll,  and  the  sway  as  of 
tempest  waves,  music-ruled  to  ordered  cadences ; 
where,  far  below,  lower  than  the  cellars,  the  deer,  and 
the  mice,  and  the  dormice,  and  the  foxes,  and  all  the 
wild  things  of  the  forest,  ran  in  its  caves  —  from  this 
high  city  of  the  sylphs,  watched  and  loved  and  taught 
by  the  most  gracious  and  graceful  and  tenderly  ethe- 
real and  powerful  of  beings,  he  fell  supine  into  Gran- 
nie's box-bed,  with  the  departed  hum  of  her  wheel 
spinning  out  its  last  thread  of  sound  in  his  disap- 
pointed brain. 

In  after  years  when  he  remembered  the  enchanting 
dreams  of  his  boyhood,  instead  of  sighing  after  them 
as  something  gone  for  ever,  he  would  say  to  himself, 
"  what  matter  they  are  gone  ?  In  the  heavenly  king- 
dom, my  own  mother  is  waiting  me,  fairer  and  stronger 
and  real.  I  imagined  the  elves ;  God  imagined  my 
mother." 


DREAMS. 


73 


The  unconscious  magician  of  the  whole  mystery, 
who  had  seemed  to  the  boy  to  be  spinning  his  very 
brain  into  dreams,  rose,  and,  drawing  near  the  bed, 
as  if  to  finish  the  ruthless  destruction,  and  with  her 
long  witch-broom  sweep  down  the  very  cobwebs  of 
his  airy  phantasy,  said, 

"  Is  ye  waukin',  Cosmo  my  bairn  ?  " 

"Ay  am  I,"  answered  Cosmo,  with  a  faint  pang, 
and  a  strange  sense  of  loss :  when  should  he  dream 
its  like  again  ! 

"  Soon,  soon,  Cosmo,"  he  might  have  heard,  could 
he  have  interpreted  the  telephonic  signals  from  the 
depths  of  his  own  being;  "wherever  the  creative 
pneuma  can  enter,  there  it  enters,  and  no  door  stands 
so  wide  to  it  as  that  of  the  obedient  heart." 

"  Weel,  ye  maun  hae  yer  supper,  an'  syne  ye  maun 
say  yer  prayers,  an'  hae  dune  wi'  Tyseday,  an'  gang 
on  tir  Wudens-day." 

"  I'm  nae  wantin'  ony  supper,  thank  ye,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Ye  maun  hae  something,  my  bonny  man ;  for 
them  'at  aits  ower  little,  as  weel's  them  'at  aits  ower 
muckle,  the  night-mear  rides  —  an'  she's  a  fearsome 
horse.  Ye  can  never  win  upo'  the  back  o'  her,  for 
as  guid  a  rider  as  ye  're  weel  kent  to  be,  my  bairn. 
Sae  wull  ye  hae  a  drappy  parritch  an'  ream?  or 
wad  ye  prefar  a  sup  of  fine  gruel,  sic  as  yer  mother 
used  to  like  weel  frae  my  han',  whan  it  sae  happent 
I  was  i'  the  hoose  ?  "  The  offer  seemed  to  the  boy 
to  bring  him  a  little  nearer  the  mother  whose  memory 
he  worshipped,  and  on  the  point  of  saying,  for  the 
sake  of  saving  her  trouble,  that  he  would  have  the 
porridge,  he  chose  the  gruel. 


74  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

He  watched  from  his  nest  the  whole  process  of  its 
making.  It  took  a  time  of  its  own,  for  one  of  the 
secrets  of  good  gruel  is  a  long  acquaintance  with  the 
fire. —  Many  a  time  the  picture  of  that  room  returned 
to  him  in  far  different  circumstances,  like  a  dream  of 
quiet  and  self-sustained  delight  —  though  his  one 
companion  was  an  aged  woman. 

When  he  had  taken  it,  he  fell  asleep  once  more, 
and  when  he  woke  again,  it  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
night.  The  lamp  was  nearly  burned  out :  it  had  a 
long,  red,  disreputable  nose,  that  spoke  of  midnight 
hours  and  exhausted  oil.  The  old  lady  was  dozing  in 
her  chair.  The  clock  had  just  struck  something,  for 
the  sound  of  its  bell  was  yet  faintly  pulsing  in  the  air. 
He  sat  up,  and  looked  out  into  the  room.  Some- 
thing seemed  upon  him — he  could  not  tell  what. 
He  felt  as  if  something  had  been  going  on  besides 
the  striking  of  the  clock,  and  were  not  yet  over  —  as 
if  something  was  even  now  being  done  in  the  room. 
But  there  the  old  woman  slept,  motionless,  and  ap- 
parently in  perfect  calm !  It  could  not,  however, 
have  been  perfect  as  it  seemed,  for  presently  she  be- 
gan to  talk.  At  first  came  only  broken  sentences, 
occasionally  with  a  long  pause ;  and  just  as  he  had 
concluded  she  would  say  nothing  more,  she  would 
begin  again.  There  was  something  awful  to  the  fancy 
of  the  youth  in  the  issuing  of  words  from  the  lips  of 
one  apparently  unconscious  of  surrounding  things; 
her  voice  was  like  the  voice  of  one  speaking  from  an- 
other world.  Cosmo  was  a  brave  boy  where  duty 
was  concerned,  but  conscience  and  imagination 
were  each  able  to  make  him  tremble.     To  tremble, 


DREAMS. 


75 


and  to  turn  the  back,  are,  however,  very  different 
things  :  of  the  latter,  the  thing  deserving  to  be  called 
cowardice,  Cosmo  knew  nothing;  his  hair  began  to 
rise  upon  his  head,  but  that  head  he  never  hid  be- 
neath the  bed-clothes.  He  sat  and  stared  into  the 
gloom,  where  the  old  woman  lay  in  her  huge  chair, 
muttering  at  irregular  intervals. 

Presently  she  began  to  talk  a  little  more  continu.- 
ously.  And  now  also  Cosmo's  heart  had  got  a  little 
quieter,  and  no  longer  making  such  a  noise  in  his 
ears,  allowed  him  to  hear  better.  After  a  few  words 
seemingly  unconnected,  though  probably  with  a  per- 
fect dependence  of  their  own,  she  began  to  murmur 
something  that  sounded  like  verses.  Cosmo  soon 
perceived  that  she  was  saying  the  same  thing  over 
and  over,  and  at  length  he  had  not  only  made  out 
every  word  of  the  few  lines,  but  was  able  to  remember 
them.  This  was  what  he  afterwards  recalled  —  by 
that  time  uncertain  whether  the  whole  thing  had  not 
been  a  dream : 


Catch  yer  naig  an'  pu'  his  tail : 
In  his  hin'  heel  ca'  a  nail ; 
Rug  his  lugs  frae  ane  anither  — 
Stan'  up,  an'  ca'  the  king  yer  brither. 


When  first  he  repeated  them  entire  to  himself,  the 
old  woman  still  muttering  them,  he  could  not  help 
laughing,  and  the  noise,  though  repressed,  yet  roused 
her.  She  woke,  not,  like  most  young  people,  with 
slow  gradation  of  consciousness,  but  all  at  once  was 
wide  awake.     She  sat  up  in  her  chair. 


76         '  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Was  I  snorin',  laddie,  'at  ye  leuch  ? "  she  asked, 
in  a  tone  of  slight  offence. 

"  Eh,  na !  "  replied  Cosmo.  "  It  was  only  'at  ye 
was  sayin'  something  rale  funny  —  i'  yer  sleep,  ye 
ken  —  a  queer  jingle  o'  poetry  it  was." 

Therewith  he  repeated  the  rime,  and  Grannie  burst 
into  a  merry  laugh  —  which  however  sobered  rather 
suddenly. 

"  I  dinna  won'er  I  was  sayin'  ower  thae  fule  words," 
she  said,  "  for  'deed  I  was  dreamin'  o'  the  only  ane 
I  ever  h'ard  say  them,  an'  that  was  whan  I  was  a  lass 
—  maybe  aboot  thirty.  Onybody  nicht  hae  h'ard  him 
sayin'  them  —  ower  and  ower  til  himsel',  as  gien  he 
cudna  weary  o'  them,  but  naebody  but  mysel'  seemed 
to  hae  ta'en  ony  notice  o'  the  same.  I  used  whiles 
to  won'er  whether  he  fully  un'erstude  what  he  was 
sayin'  —  but  troth !  hoo  cud  there  be  ony  sense  in  sic 
havers } " 

"  Was  there  ony  mair  o'  the  ballant  ? "  asked 
Cosmo. 

"  Gien  there  was  mair ;  I  h'ard  na't,"  replied  Gran- 
nie. "  An'  weel  I  wat !  he  was  na  ane  to  sing,  the 
auld  captain. — Did  ye  never  hear  tell  o'  'im,  laddie  ? " 

"  Gien  ye  mean  the  auld  brither  o'  the  laird  o'  that 
time,  him  'at  cam  hame  frae  his  sea-farin'  to  the  East 
Indies  —  " 

"  Ay,  ay ;  that's  him !  Ye  hae  h'ard  tell  o'  'im ! 
He  hed  a  ship  o'  's  ain,  an'  made  mony  a  voyage 
afore  ony  o'  's  was  born,  an'  was  an  auld  man  whan 
at  len'th  hame  cam  he,  as  the  sang  says — ower  auld 
to  haud  by  the  sea  ony  more.  I'll  never  forget  the 
lulk  o'.the  man  whan  first  I  saw  him,  nor  the  hurry 


DREAMS.  77 


an'  the  scurry,  the  rinnin'  here,  an'  the  routin'  there, 
'at  there  was  whan  the  face  o'  'm  came  in  at  the  gett ! 
Ye  see  they  a'  thoiicht  he  was  hame  wi'  a  walth  ayout 
figures  —  stowed  awa'  somewhaur  —  naebody  kent 
whaur.  Eh,  but  he  was  no  a  bonny  man,  an*  fowk 
said  he  dee'd  na  a  fairstrae  deith :  hoo  that  may 
be,  I  dinna  weel  ken :  there  war  unco  things  aboot 
the  affair  —  things  'at  winna  weel  bide  speykin'  o'. 
Ae  thing's  certain,  an'  that  is,  'at  the  place  has  never 
thriven  sin  syne.  But,  for  that  maitter,  it  hedna 
thriven  for  mony  a  lang  afore.  An'  there  was  a  fowth 
o'  awfu'  stories  reengin'  the  country,  like  ghaists  'at 
naebody  cud  get  a  grip  o'  —  as  to  hoo  he  had  gotten 
the  said  siller,  an'  sic  like  —  the  siller  'at  naebody  ever 
saw ;  for  upo'  that  siller,  as  I  tell  ye,  naebody  ever  cuist 
an  e'e.  Some  said  he  had  been  a  pirate  upo'  the 
hie  seas,  an'  had  ta'en  the  siller  in  lumps  o'  gowd 
frae  puir  ships  'at  hadna  men  eneuch  to  hand  the 
grip  o'  't ;  some  said  he  had  been  a  privateer ;  an' 
ither  some  said  there  was  sma'  differ  atween  the 
twa.  An'  some  wad  hae  't  he  was  ane  o'  them  'at 
tuik  an'  sauld  the  puir  black  fowk,  'at  cudna  help 
bein'  black,  for  as  ootlandish  as  it  maun  luik  —  I 
never  saw  nane  o'  the  nation  mysel'  —  ony  mair  nor 
a  corbie  can  help  his  feathers  no  bein'  like  a  doo's ; 
an'  gien  they  turnt  black  for  ony  deevilr^'  o'  them  'at 
was  their  forbeirs,  I  kenna  an'  it  maks  naething  to 
me  or  mine, —  I  wad  fain  an'  far  raither  du  them  a 
guid  turn  nor  tak  an'  sell  them  ;  for  gien  their  parents 
had  sinned,  the  mair  war  they  to  be  pitied.  But  as 
I  was  sayin',  naebody  kent  hoo  he  had  gethert  his 
siller,  the  mair  by  token  'at  maybe  there  was  nane, 


78  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

for  naebody,  as  I  was  tellin'  ye,  ever  had  the  sma'est 
glimp  o'  siller  aboot  'im.  For  a  close-loofed  near 
kin  o'  man  he  was,  gien  ever  ony  !  Aye  ready  was 
he  to  borrow  a  shillin'  frae  ony  fule  'at  wad  len'  him 
ane,  an'  lang  had  him  'at  len't  it  forgotten  to  luik  for 
't,  er'  he  thoucht  o'  peyin'  the  same.  It  was  mair 
nor  ae  year  or  twa  'at  he  leeved  aboot  the  place,  an* 
naebody  cared  muckle  for  his  company,  though  a' 
body  was  ower  feart  to  lat  him  ken  he  was  na  wel- 
come here  or  there;  for  wha  cud  tell  he  micht  oot  wi' 
the  swoord  he  aye  carriet,  an'  mak  an'  en'  o'  'im  I 
For  'deed  he  fearna  God  nor  man,  ony  mair  nor  the 
jeedge  i'  the  Scriptur'.  He  drank  a  heap  —  as  for 
a'  body  at  he  ca'd  upo'  aye  hed  oot  the  whisky- 
bottle  well  willun'  to  please  the  man  they  war  feart 
at." 

The  voice  of  the  old  woman  went  sounding  in  the 
ears  of  the  boy,  on  and  on  in  the  gloom,  and  through 
it,  possibly  from  the  still  confused  condition  of  his 
head,  he  kept  constantly  hearing  the  rimes  she  had 
repeated  to  him.  They  seemed  to  have  laid  hold  of 
him  as  of  her,  perhaps  from  their  very  foolishness,  in 
an  odd  inexplicable  way  :  — 

Catch  yer  naig  an'  pu'  his  tail ; 
In  his  hin'  heel  ca'  a  nail ; 
Rug  his  lugs  frae  ane  anither  — 
Stan'  up,  an'  ca'  the  king  yer  brither. 

On  and  on  went  the  rime,  and  on  and  on  went  the 
old  woman's  voice. 

"Weel,  there  cam'  a  time  whan  an  English  lord 
begud  to  be  seen  aboot  the  place,  an'  that  was  nae 


DREAMS. 


79 


comon  sicht  i'  oor  puir  country.  He  was  a  frien' 
fowk  said,  o'  the  yoong  Markis  o'  Lossie,  an'  that 
was  hoo  he  cam  to  sicht.  He  gaed  fleein'  aboot, 
luikin'  at  this,  an'  luikin'  at  that ;  an'  whaur  or  hoo 
he  fell  in  wi'  him^  I  dinna  ken,  but  or  lang  the 
twa  o'  them  was  a  heap  thegither.  They  playt  cairts 
thegither,  they  drank  thegither,  they  drave  oot  the- 
gither—  for  the  auld  captain  never  crossed  beast's 
back  —  an"  what  made  sic  f  rien's  o'  them  nobody  could 
imaigine.  For  the  tane  was  a  rouch  sailor  chield,  an' 
the  tither  was  a  yoong  lad,  little  mair,  an'  a  fine  gen- 
tleman as  weel's  a  bonny  man.  But  the  upshot  o'  't 
a'  was  an  ill  ane ;  for,  efter  maybe  aboot  a  month  or 
sae  o'  sic  friendship  as  was  atween  them,  there  cam 
a  nicht  'at  brouchtna  the  captain  hame ;  for  ye  maun 
un'erstan',  wi'  a'  his  rouch  w'ys,  an'  his  drinkin',  an' 
his  cairt-playin',  he  was  aye  hame  at  nicht,  an'  safe 
intil  's  bed,  whaur  he  sleepit  i'  the  best  chaumer  i' 
the  castle.  Ay,  he  wad  come  hame,  aften  as  drunk 
as  man  cud  be,  but  hame  he  cam.  Sleep  intil  the 
efternune  o'  the  neist  day  he  wad,  but  never  oot  o'  's 
nain  bed  —  or  if  no  aye  in  his  ain  nakit  bed^  for  I  fan' 
him  ance  mysel'  lyin'  snorin'  upo'  the  flure,  it  was  aye 
intil  's  ain  room,  as  I  say,  an'  no  in  ony  strange  place 
drunk  or  sober.  Sae  there  was  some  surprise  at  his 
no  appearin',  an'  fowk  spak  o'  't,  but  no  that  muckle, 
for  naebody  cared  i'  their  hert  what  cam  o'  the  man. 
Still  whan  the  men  gaed  oot  to  their  wark,  they  bude 
to  gie  a  luik  gien  there  was  ony  sign  o'  'm.  It  was 
easy  to  think  'at  he  micht  hae  been  at  last  ower  sair 
owertaen  to  be  able  to  win  hame.  But  that  wasna 
it,  though  whan  they  cam  upo'  'm  lyin'   on's  back  i' 


So  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

the  howe  you'er  'at  luiks  up  to  my  daughter's  bit 
gerse  for  her  coo',  they  thoucht  he  bude  to  hae  sleepit 
there  a'  nicht.  Sae  he  had,  but  it  was  the  sleep  'at 
kens  no  waukin  —  at  least  no  the  kin'  o'  waukin'  'at 
comes  wi'  the  mornin'  !  " 

Cosmo  recognized  with  a  shudder  his  favourite 
spot,  where  on  his  birthday,  as  on  many  a  day  before, 
he  had  fallen  asleep.  But  the  old  woman  went  on 
with  her  story. 

"  Deid  was  the  auld  captain  —  as  deid  as  ever  was 
man  'at  had  nane  left  to  greit  for  him.  But  thof 
there  was  nae  greitin',  no  but  sic  a  hullabaloo  as  rase 
upo'  the  discovery  !  They  rade  an'  they  ran ;  the 
doctor  cam',  an'  the  minister,  an'  the  lawyer,  an'  the 
grave-digger.  But  whan  a  man's  deid,  what  can  a' 
the  warl'  du  for  'im  but  berry  'im  ?  puir  hin'er  en' 
thof  it  be  to  him  at  draws  himsel'  up,  an'  blaws  him- 
sel'  oot !  There  was  mony  a  conjectur  as  to  hoo  he 
cam  by  his  deith,  an'  mony  a  doobt  it  wasna  by  fair 
play.  Some  said  he  dee'd  by  his  ain  han',  driven  on 
til't  by  the  enemy ;  an'  it  was  true  the  blade  he  cair- 
riet  was  lyin'  upo'  the  grass  aside  'im  ;  but  ither  some 
'at  exem't  him,  said  the  hole  i'  the  side  o'  'im  was  na 
made  wi'  that.  But  o'  a'  'at  cam  to  speir  efter  'im, 
the  English  lord  was  nane.  He  hed  vainished  the 
country.  The  general  opinyon  sattled  doon  to  this, 
'at  they  twa  bude  till  hae  fa'en  oot  at  cairts,  an' 
f ouchten  it  oot,  an'  the  auld  captain,  for  a'  his  skeel 
an'  exparience,  had  had  the  warst  o'  't,  an'  so  there 
they  faun'  'im. —  But  I  reckon,  Cosmo,  yer  father  'ill 
hae  tellt  ye  a'  aboot  the  thing,  mony's  the  time,  or 


DREAMS.  8 1 


noo,  an'  I'm  jist  deivin'  ye  wi'  my  clavers,  an  haudin 
'ye  ohn  sleepit !  " 

"  Na,  Grannie,"  answered  Cosmo,  "  he  never  tellt 
me  what  ye  hae  tellt  me  noo.  He  did  tell  me  'at 
there  was  sic  a  man,  an'  the  ill  en'  he  cam  til ;  an'  I 
think  he  was  jist  gaein'  on  to  tell  me  mair,  whan 
Grizzle  cam  to  say  the  denner  was  ready.  That  was 
only  yesterday  —  or  the  day  afore,  I'm  thinkin',  by 
this  time. —  But  what  think  ye  could  hae  been  in  's 
heid  wi'  yon  jingle  aboot  the  horsie  ?" 

"  Ow !  what  wad  be  intil  't  but  jist  fulish  nonsense  ? 
Ye  ken  some  fowk  has  a  queer  trick  o'  sayin'  the 
same  thing  ower  an'  ower  again  to  themsel's,  wi'oot 
ony  sense  intil  't.  There  was  the  auld  laird  himsel' ; 
he  was  ane  o'  sic.  Aye  an'  ower  again  he  wad  be 
sayin'  til  himsel',  '  A  hun'er  poun'  !  Ay,  a  hun'er 
poun' ! '  It  maittered  na  what  he  wad  be  speikin' 
aboot,  or  wha  til,  in  it  wad  come !  —  i'  the  middle  o' 
onything,  ye  cudna  tell  whan  or  whaur,  —  *  A  hun'er 
poun' ! '  says  he  ;  '  Ay,  a  hun'er  poun'  ! '  Fowk  leuch 
at  the  first,  but  sune  gat  used  til't,  an'  cam  hardly  to 
ken  'at  he  said  it,  for  what  has  nae  sense  has  little 
hearin'.  An'  I  doobtna  thae  rimes  wasna  even  a 
verse  o'  an  auld  ballant,  but  jist  a  cletter  o'  clinkin' 
styte  {nonsense),  'at  he  had  learnt  f  rae  some  blackamore 
bairn,  maybe,  an'  cudna  get  oot  o'  's  heid  ony  ither 
gait,  but  bude  to  say't  to  hae  dune  wi'  't — jist  like  a 
cat  whan  it  gangs  scrattin'  at  the  door,  ye  hae  to  get 
up,  whether  ye  wull  or  no,  an'  lat  the  cratur  oot." 

Cosmo  did  not  feel  quite  satisfied  with  the  expla- 
nation, but  he  made  no  objection  to  it. 

"  I  maun  alloo,  hooever,"  the  old  woman  went  on. 


82  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  'at  ance  ye  get  a  haud  o'  them^  they  tak  a  grip  o' 
you^  an'  hae  a  queer  w'y  o'  hauntin'  ye  like,  as  they 
did  the  man  himsel',  sae  'at  ye  canna  yet  rid  o'  them. 
It  comes  only  at  noos  an'  thans,  but  whan  the  fit  's 
upo'  me,  I  canna  get  them  oot  o'  my  heid.  The  verse 
gangs  on  tum'lin'  ower  an'  ower  intil  't,  till  I'm  jist 
scunnert  wi'  't.  Awa'  it  wanna  gang,  maybe  for  a 
haill  day,  an'  syne  it  mayna  come  again  for  months." 

True  enough,  the  rime  was  already  running  about 
in  Cosmo's  head  like  a  mouse,  and  he  fell  asleep 
with  it  ringing  in  the  ears  of  his  mind. 

Before  he  woke  again,  which  was  in  the  broad  day- 
light, he  had  a  curious  dream. 

He  dreamed  that  he  was  out  in  the  moonlight.  It 
was  a  summer  night  —  late.  But  there  was  some- 
thing very  strange  about  the  night :  right  up  in  the 
top  of  it  was  the  moon,  looking  down  as  if  she  knew 
all  about  it,  and  something  was  going  to  happen.  He 
did  not  like  the  look  of  her  —  he  had  never  seen  her 
look  like  that  before !  and  he  went  home  just  to  get 
away  from  her.  As  he  was  going  up  the  stairs  to  his 
chamber,  something  moved  him  —  he  could  not  tell 
what — ^to  stop  at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  and 
go  in.  It  was  flooded  with  moonlight,  but  he  did  not 
mind  that,  so  long  as  he  could  keep  out  of  her  sight. 
Still  it  had  a  strange,  eerie  look,  with  its  various 
pieces  of  furniture  casting  different  shadows  from 
those  that  by  rights  belonged  to  them.  He  gazed  at 
this  thing  and  that,  as  if  he  had  never  seen  it  before. 
The  place  seemed  to  cast  a  spell  over  him,  so  that  he 
could  not  leave  it.  He  seated  himself  on  the  ancient 
brocaded    couch,  and  sat  staring,  with  a  sense,  which 


DREAMS.  83 


by  degrees  grew  dreadful,  that  he  was  where  he  would 
not  be,  and  that  if  he  did  not  get  up  and  go,  some- 
thing would  happen.  But  he  could  not  rise  —  not 
that  he  felt  any  physical  impediment,  but  that  he 
could  not  make  a  resolve  strong  enough  —  like  one 
in  irksome  company,  who  wants  to  leave,  but  waits  in 
vain  a  fit  opportunity.  Delay  grew  to  agony,  but  still 
he  sat. 

He  became  aware  that  he  was  not  alone.  His 
whole  skin  seemed  to  contract  with  a  shuddering 
sense  of  presence.  Gradually,  as  he  gazed  straight 
in  front  of  him,  slowly,  in  the  chair  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  fire-place,  grew  visible  the  form  of  a  man, 
until  he  saw  it  quite  plainly  —  that  of  a  seafaring 
man,  in  a  blue  coat,  with  a  red  sash  round  his  waist, 
in  which  were  pistols,  and  a  dagger.  He  too  sat 
motionless,  fixing  on  him  the  stare  of  fierce  eyes, 
black,  yet  glowing,  as  if  set  on  fire  of  hell.  They 
filled  him  with  fear,  but  something  seemed  to  sustain 
him  under  it.  He  almost  fancied,  when  first  on  wak- 
ing he  thought  over  it,  that  a  third  must  have  been 
in  the  room  —  for  his  protection.  The  face  that 
stared  at  him  was  a  brown  and  red  and  weather- 
beaten  face,  cut  across  with  a  great  scar,  and  wearing 
an  expression  of  horror  trying  not  to  look  horrible. 
His  fear  threatened  to  turn  him  into  clay,  but  he  met 
it  with  scorn,  strove  against  it,  would  not  and  did  not 
yield.  Still  the  figure  stared,  as  if  it  would  fascinate 
him  into  limpest  submission.  Slowly  at  length  it 
rose,  and  with  a  look  that  seemed  meant  to  rivet  the 
foregone  stare  —  a  look  of  mingled  pain  and  fierce- 
ness, turned,  and  led  the  way  from  the  room,  where- 


84  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

upon  the  spell  was  so  far  broken  or  changed,  that  he 
was  able  to  rise  and  follow  him :  even  in  his  dreams 
he  was  a  boy  of  courage,  and  feared  nothing  so  much 
as  yielding  to  fear.  The  figure  went  on,  nor  ever 
turned  its  head,  up  the  stair  to  the  room  over  that 
they  had  left  —  the  best  bedroom,  the  guest-chamber 
of  the  house  —  not  often  visited,  and  there  it  entered. 
Still  following,  Cosmo  entered  also.  The  figure  walk- 
ed across  the  room,  as  if  making  for  the  bed,  but  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  suddenly  turned,  and  went 
round  by  the  foot  of  the  bed  to  the  other  side  of  it, 
where  the  curtains  hid  it.  Cosmo  followed,  but  when 
he  reached  the  other  side,  the  shade  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen,  and  he  woke,  his  heart  beating  terribly. 

By  this  time  Grannie  was  snoring  in  her  chair,  or 
very  likely,  in  his  desire  to  emerge  from  its  atmosphere, 
he  would  have  told  her  his  dream.  For  a  while  he 
lay  looking  at  the  dying  fire,  and  the  streak  from 
the  setting  moon,  that  stole  in  at  the  window,  and 
lay  weary  at  the  foot  of  the  wall.  Slowly  he  fell  fast 
asleep,  and  slept  far  into  the  morning:  long  after 
lessons  were  begun  in  the  school,  and  village-affairs 
were  in  the  full  swing  of  their  daily  routine,  he  slept ; 
nor  had  he  finished  his  breakfast,  when  his  father 
entered. 

"I'm  quite  well,  papa,"  answered  the  boy  to  his 
gentle  yet  eager  inquiry ;  —  "  perfectly  able  to  go  ta 
school  in  the  afternoon." 

"I  don't  mean  you  to  go  again,  Cosmo,"  replied 
his  father  gravely.  "  It  could  not  be  pleasant  either 
for  yourself  or  for  the  master.  The  proper  relation 
between  you  is  destroyed." 


COSMO'S     DREAM. 


DREAMS.  87 


"  If  you  think  I  was  wrong,  papa,  I  will  make  an 
apology." 

"  If  you  had  done  it  for  yourself,  I  should  unhesita- 
tingly say  you  must.  But  as  it  was,  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  say  so." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  then  ?  How  am  I  to  get  ready 
for  college  ? " 

The  laird  gave  a  sigh,  and  made  no  answer.  Alas  ! 
there  were  more  difficulties  than  that  in  the  path  to 
college. 

He  turned  away,  and  went  to  call  on  the  minister, 
while  Cosmo  got  up  and  dressed :  except  a  little 
singing  in  his  head  when  he  stooped,  he  was  aware 
of  no  consequences  of  the  double  blow. 

Grannie  was  again  at  her  wheel,  and  Cosmo  sat 
down  in  her  chair  to  await  his  father's  return. 

"  Whaur  said  ye  the  captain  sleepit  whan  he  was 
at  the  castle  ? "  he  inquired  across  the  buzz  and 
whiz  and  hum  of  the  wheel.  Through  the  low  window, 
betwixt  the  leaves  of  the  many  plants  that  shaded  it,, 
he  could  see  the  sun  shining  hot  upon  the  bare  street ; 
but  inside  was  soft  gloom  filled  with  murmurous  sound. 

"  Whaur  but  i'  the  best  bedroom  ? "  answered 
Grannie.  "  Naething  less  wad  hae  pleased  kirn,  I 
can  assure  ye.  For  ance  'at  there  cam  the  rnarkis  to 
the  hoose  —  whan  things  warna  freely  sae  scant  aboot 
the  place  as  they  hae  been  sin'  yer  father  cam  to  the 
throne  —  there  cam  at  his  back  a  fearsome  storm,  sic 
as  comes  but  seldom  in  a  life  lang  as  mine,  an'  sic 
'at  his  lordship  cudna  win  awa'.  Thereupon  yer 
father,  that  is,  yer  gran'father, —  or  it  wad  be  yer 
grit-gran'father  —  I'm  turnin'  some  confused  amo'  ye: 


88  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ye  aye  keep  comin' !  —  onyhoo,  he  gae  the  captain 
a  kent  like,  'at  he  wad  du  weel  to  offer  his  room  til's 
lordship.  But  wad  he,  think  ye  ?  Na,  no  him  !  He 
grew  reid,  an'  syne  as  white's  the  aisse,  an'  luikit  to 
be  i'  the  awfu'est  inside  rage  'at  mortal  wessel  cud 
weel  hand.  Sae  yer  gran'father,  no  'at  he  was  feart 
at  'im,  for  Is'  be  bun'  he  never  was  feart  afore  the 
face  o'  man,  but  jest  no  wullin'  to  anger  his  ain  kin, 
an'  maybe  no  willin'  onybody  sud  say  he  was  a  re- 
specter o'  persons,  heeld  his  tongue  an'  said  nae 
mair,  an'  the  markis  hed  the  second  best  bed,  for 
he  sleepit  in  Glenwarlock's  ain." 

Cosmo  then  told  her  the  dream  he  had  had  in  the 
night,  describing  the  person  he  had  seen  in  it  as 
closely  as  he  could.  Now  all  the  time  Grannie  had 
been  speaking,  it  was  to  the  accompaniment  of  her 
wheel,  but  Cosmo  had  not  got  far  with  his  narrative 
when  she  ceased  spinning,  and  sat  absorbed  —  listen- 
ing as  to  a  real  occurrence,  not  the  feverish  dream  of 
a  boy.     When  he  ended,  — 

"It  maun  hae  been  the  auld  captain  himself  !  "  she 
said  under  her  breath,  and  with  a  sigh  ;  then  shut  up 
her  mouth,  and  remained  silent,  leaving  Cosmo  in 
doubt  whether  it  was  that  she  would  take  no  interest 
in  such  a  foolish  thing,  or  found  in  it  something  to 
set  her  thinking ;  but  he  could  not  help  noting  that 
there  seemed  a  strangeness  about  her  silence  ;  nor 
did  she  break  it  until  his  father  returned^ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOME. 

Cosmo  was  not  particularly  fond  of  school,  and  he 
was  particularly  fond  of  holidays ;  hence  his  father's 
resolve  that  he  should  go  to  school  no  more,  seemed 
to  him  the  promise  of  an  endless  joy.  The  very  sun 
seemed  swelling  in  his  heart  as  he  walked  home  with 
his  father.  A  whole  day  of  home  and  its  pleasures 
was  before  him  —  only  the  more  welcome  that  he  had 
had  a  holiday  so  lately,  and  that  so  many  more  lay 
behind  it.  Every  shadow  about  the  old  place  was  a 
delight  to  him.  Never  human  being  loved  more  the 
things  into  which  he  had  been  born  than  did  Cosmo. 
The  whole  surrounding  had  to  him  a  sacred  look, 
such  as  Jerusalem,  the  temple,  and  its  vessels,  bore  to 
the  Jews,  even  those  of  them  who  were  capable  of 
loving  little  else.  There  was  hardly  anything  that 
could  be  called  beauty  about  the  building  —  strength 
and  gloom  were  its  main  characteristics  —  but  its  very 
stones  were  .dear  to  the  boy.  There  never  were  such 
bees,  there  never  were  such  thick  walls,  there  never 
89 


90  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

were  such  storms,  never  such  a  rushing  river,  as  those 
about  his  beloved  home  !     And  this  although,  all  the 
time,  as  I  have  said,  he   longed    for  more  beauty  of 
mountain  and  wood  than  the    country  around  could 
afford  him.     Then  there   were  the  books  belonging  to 
the  house  !  —  was  there  any  such  a  collection  in  the 
world  besides  !     They    were   in  truth  very  few  —  all 
contained  in  a  closet  opening  out  of  his  father's  bed- 
room ;    but  Cosmo    had   a    feeling   of  inexhaustible 
wealth  in  them  —  partly    because  his  father  had  not 
yet  allowed  him    to   read  everything  there,   but   re- 
stricted him  to  certain  of   the  shelves  —  as  much  to 
cultivate  self-restraint  in  him  as  to  keep  one  or  two 
of  the  books  from  him,  —  partly  because  he  read  books 
so  that  they  remained  books  to  him,  and  he  believed 
in  them  after  he  had  read  them,  nor  imagined  himself 
capable  of  exhausting  them.     But  the   range  of  his 
taste  was  certainly  not  a  limited  one.     While  he  rev- 
elled in  The  Arabian  Nights,  he  read   also,  and  with 
n6"  small  enjoyment,  the  Night  Thoughts — books,  it 
will  be  confessed,  considerably  apart  both  in  scope 
and  in  style.     But  while  thus,  for  purest  pleasure, 
fond  of  reading,  to  enjoy  life  it  was  to  him  enough  to 
lie  in  the  grass  ;  in  certain  moods,   the  smell  of  the 
commonest  flower  would  drive  him  half  crazy  with 
delight.     On  a  holiday  his  head  would  be  haunted 
with  old  ballads  like  a  sunflower  with  bees  :  on  other 
days  they  would  only  come  and  go.     He   rejoiced 
even  in  nursery  rimes,  only  in  his  head  somehow  or 
other  they  got  glorified.     The   swing  and  hum  and 
bizz  of  a  line,  one  that  might  have  to  him  no  discov- 
erable meaning,  would  play  its  tune  in  him  as  well  as 


HOME. 


91 


any  mountain-stream  its  infinite  water-jumble  melody. 
One  of  those  that  this  day  kept  —  not  coming  and 
going,  but  coming  and  coming,  just  as  Grannie  said 
his  foolish  rime  haunted  the  old  captain,  was  that 
which  two  days  before  came  into  his  head  when  first 
he  caught  sight  of  the  moon  playing  bo-peep  with  him 
betwixt  the  cows  legs  : 

Whan  the  coo  loups  ower  the  mune, 
The  reid  gowd  rains  intil  men's  shune. 

I  think  there  must  at  one  time  have  been  a  poet  in 
the  Glenwarlock  nursery,  for  there  were  rimes,  and 
modifications  of  rimes,  floating  about  the  family,  for 
which  nobody  could  account.  Cosmo's  mother  too 
had  been,  in  a  fragmentary  way,  fond  of  verse ;  and 
although  he  could  not  remember  many  of  her  favour- 
ite rimes,  his  father  did,  and  delighted  in  saying  them 
over  and  over  to  her  child  —  and  that  long  before  he 
was  capable  of  understanding  them.     Here  is  one  : 

Make  not  of  thy  heart  a  casket, 

Opening  seldom,  quick  to  close  ; 
But  of  bread  a  wide-mouthed  basket, 

And  a  cup  that  overflows. 

Here  is  another : 

The  gadfly  makes  the  horse  run  swift : 
"  Speed,"  quoth  the  gadfly,  "  is  my  gift." 

One  more,  and  it  shall  be  the  last  for  the  present : 
They  serve  as  dim  lights  on  the  all  but  vanished 
mother,  of  whom  the  boy  himself  knew  so  little. 

In  God  alone,  the  perfect  end, 
Wilt  thou  find  thyself  or  friend. 


92  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

Cosmo's  dream  of  life  was,  to  live  all  his  days  in 
the  house  of  his  forefathers  —  or  at  least  and  worst, 
to  return  to  it  at  last,  how  long  soever  he  might  have 
been  compelled  to  be  away  from  it.  In  his  castle- 
building,  next  to  that  of  the  fairy-mother-lady,  his 
fondest  fancy  was  —  not  the  making  of  a  fortune,  but 
the  returning  home  with  one,  to  make  the  house  of 
his  fathers  beautiful,  and  the  heart  of  his  father  glad. 
About  the  land  he  did  not  think  so  much  yet :  the 
country  was  open  to  him  as  if  it  had  been  all  his  own. 
Still,  he  had  quite  a  different  feeling  for  that  portion 
which  yet  lay  within  the  sorely  contracted  marches ; 
to  have  seen  any  smallest  nook  of  that  sold,  would 
have  been  like  to  break  his  heart.  In  him  the  love 
of  place  was  in  danger  of  becoming  a  disease.  There 
was  in  it  something,  I  fear,  of  the  nature,  if  not  of 
the  avarice  that  grasps,  yet  of  the  avarice  that  clings. 
He  was  generous  as  few  in  the  matter  of  money,  but 
then  he  had  had  so  little  —  not  half  enough  to  learn 
to  love  it !  Nor  had  he  the  slightest  idea  of  any 
mode  in  which  to  make  it.  Most  of  the  methods  he 
had  come  in  contact  with,  except  that  of  manual 
labour,  in  which  work  was  done  and  money  paid  im- 
mediately for  it,  repelled  him,  as  having  elements  of 
the  unhandsome  where  not  the  dishonest :  he  was  not 
yet  able  to  distinguish  between  substance  and  mode 
in  such  matters.  The  only  way  in  which  he  ever 
dreamed  of  coming  into  possession  of  money  —  it 
was  another  of  his  favourite  castles — was  finding  in 
the  old  house  a  room  he  had  never  seen  or  heard  of 
before,  and  therein  a  hoard  of  riches  incredible. 
Such  things  had  been  — why  might  it  not  be  ? 


HOME. 


93 


As  they  walked,  his  father  told  him  he  had  been 
thinking  all  night  what  it  would  be  best  to  do  with  him, 
now  that  the  school  was  closed  against  him ;  and 
that  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  to  ask  his 
friend  Peter  Simon  —  the  wits  of  the  neighbourhood 
called  him  Simon  Peter  —  to  take  charge  of  his  edu- 
cation. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  peculiar  opinions,"  he  said,  "  as 
I  daresay  you  may  have  heard;  but  everything  in 
him  is,  practice  and  theory,  on  a  scale  so  grand,  that 
to  fear  harm  from  him  would  be  to  sin  against  the 
truth.  A  man  must  learn  to  judge  for  himself,  and 
he  will  teach  you  that.  I  have  seen  in  him  so  much 
that  I  recognize  as  good  and  great,  that  I  am  com- 
pelled to  believe  in  him  where  the  things  he  believes 
appear  to  me  out  of  the  way,  or  even  extravagant." 

"  I  have  heard  that  he  believes  in  ghosts,  papa ! " 
said  Cosmo. 

His  father  smiled,  and  made  him  no  answer.  He 
had  been  born  into  an  age  whose  incredulity,  taking 
active  form,  was  now  fast  approaching  its  extreme, 
and  becoming  superstition;  and  the  denial  of  many 
things  that  had  long  been  believed  in  the  countr)^  had 
penetrated  at  last  even  to  the  remote  region  where 
his  property  lay:  like  that  property,  his  mind,  be- 
cause of  the  age,  lay  also  in  a  sort  of  border-land, 
An  active  believer  in  the  care  and  providence  of  God, 
with  no  conscious  difficulty  in  accepting  any  miracle 
recorded  in  the  Bible,  he  was,  where  the  oracles  were 
dumb,  in  a  measure  inclined  to  a  scepticism,  which 
yet  was  limited  to  the  region  of  his  intellect; — his 
imagination  turned  from  its  conclusions,  and    cher- 


94  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ished  not  a  little  so-called  weakness  for  the  so-called 
supernatural  —  so  far  as  any  glimmer  of  sense  or 
meaning  or  reason  would  show  itself  therein.  And 
in  the  history  of  the  world,  the  imagination  has,  I 
fancy,  been  quite  as  often  right  as  the  intellect,  and 
the  things  in  which  it  has  been  right,  have  been  of 
much  the  greater  importance.  Only,  unhappily, 
wherever  Pegasus  has  shown  the  way  through  a  bog 
the  pack-horse  which  follows  gets  the  praise  of  cross- 
ing it ;  while  the  blunders  with  which  the  pack-horse 
is  burdened,  are,  the  moment  each  is  discovered,  by 
the  plodding  leaders  of  the  pair  transferred  to  the 
space  betwixt  the  wings  of  Pegasus,  without  regard  to 
the  beauty  of  his  feathers.  The  laird  was  therefore 
unable  to  speak  with  authority  respecting  such  things, 
and  was  not  particularly  anxious  to  influence  the 
mind  of  his  son  concerning  them.  Happily,  in  those 
days  the  platitudes  and  weary  vulgarities  of  what  they 
call  spiritualism^  had  not  been  heard  of  in  those  quar- 
ters, and  the  soft  light  of  imagination  yet  lingered 
about  the  borders  of  that  wide  region  of  mingled  false 
and  true,  commonly  called  Superstition.  It  seems  to 
me  the  most  killing  poison  to  the  imagination  must 
be  a  strong  course  of  "  spiritualism."  For  myself,  I 
am  not  so  set  upon  entering  the  unknown,  as,  instead 
of  encouraging  what  holy  visitations  faith,  not  in  the 
spiritual  or  the  immortal,  but  in  the  living  God,  may 
bring,  to  creep  through  the  sewers  of  it  to  get  in.  I 
care  not  to  encounter  its  mud-larkes,  and  lovers  of 
garbage,  its  thieves,  impostors,  liars,  and  canaille,  in 
general.  That  they  are  on  the  other  side,  that  they  are 
what  men  call   dead,  does  not  seem  to  me  sufficient 


HOME. 


95 


reason  for  taking  them  into  my  confidence,  courting 
their  company,  asking  their  advice.  A  well-attested 
old-fashion  ghost  story,  where  such  is  to  be  had,  is 
worth  a  thousand  seances. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  papa?"  resumed  Cosmo, 
noting  his  father's  silence,  and  remembering  that  he 
had  never  heard  him  utter  an  opinion  on  the  subject. 
"  The  master  says  none  but  fools  believe  in  them 
now ;  and  he  makes  such  a  face  at  anything  he  calls 
superstition,  that  you  would  think  it  must  be  some- 
where in  the  commandments." 

"  Mr.  Simon  remarked  the  other  day  in  my  hear- 
ing," answered  his  father,  "that  the  dread  of  super- 
stition might  amount  to  superstition,  and  become  the 
most  dangerous  superstition  of  all." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  papa  ?  " 

"  I  could  well  believe  it.  Besides,  I  have  always 
found  Mr.  Simon  so  reasonable,  even  where  I  could 
not  follow  him,  that  I  am  prejudiced  in  favor  of  any- 
thing he  thinks." 

The  boy  rejoiced  to  hear  his  father  talk  thus,  for  he, 
had  a  strong  leaning  to  the  marvellous,  and  hitherto, 
from  the  schoolmaster's  assertion  and  his  father's  si- 
lence, had  supposed  nothing  was  to  be  accepted  for 
belief  but  what  was  scientifically  probable,  or  was 
told  in  the  bible.  That  we  live  in  a  universe  of  mar- 
vels of  which  we  know  only  the  outsides,  and  which 
we  turn  into  the  incredible  by  taking  the  mere  out- 
sides for  all,  even  while  we  know  the  roots  of  the 
seen  remain  unseen  —  these  spiritual  facts  now  began 
to  dawn  upon  him,  and  fell  in  most  naturally  with 
those  his  mind  had  already  conceived  and  entertained. 


§6  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

He  was  therefore  delighted  at  the  thought  of  making 
the  closer  acquaintance  of  a  man  like  Mr.  Simon  —  a 
man  of  whose  peculiarities  even,  his  father  could 
speak  in  such  terms.  All  day  long  he  brooded  on 
the  prospect,  and  in  the  twilight  went  out  wandering 
over  the  hills. 

There  was  no  night  there  at  this  season,  any  more 
than  all  the  year  through  in  heaven.  Indeed  we  have 
seldom  real  positive  night  in  this  world  —  so  many 
provisions  have  been  made  against  it.  Every  time 
we  say,  "  What  a  lovely  night !  "  we  speak  of  a  breach, 
a  rift  in  the  old  night.  There  is  light  more  or  less,  posi- 
tive light,  else  were  there  no  beauty.  Many  a  night 
is  but  a  low  starry  day,  a  day  with  a  softened  back- 
ground against  which  the  far-off  suns  of  millions  of 
other  days  show  themselves :  when  the  near  vision  van- 
ishes the  farther  hope  awakes.  It  is  nowhere  said  of 
heaven,  there  shall  be  no  twilight  there, 


CHAPTER   IX. 


THE    STUDENT. 


The  twilight  had  not  yet  reached  the  depth  of  its 
mysteriousness,  when  Cosmo,  returning  home  from 
casting  a  large  loop  of  wandering  over  several  hills, 
walked  up  to  James  Gracie's  cottage,  thinking 
whether  they  would  not  all  be  in  bed. 

But  as  he  passed  the  window,  he  saw  a  little  light, 
and  went  on  to  the  door  and  knocked  :  had  it  been 
the  daytime,  he  would  have  gone  straight  in.  Agnes 
came,  and  opened  cautiously,  for  there  were  occasion- 
ally such  beings  as  tramps  about. 

"  Eh  !  it's  you  ?  "  she  cried  with  a  glad  voice,  when 
she  saw  the  shape  of  Cosmo  in  the  dimness.  "  There's 
nae thing  wrang  I  houp,"  she  added,  changing  her  tone. 

"  Na,  naething,"  answered  Cosmo.  "  I  only  wantit 
to  lat  ye  ken  'at  I  wasna  gaein'  back  to  the  schuil 
ony  mair." 

"  Weel,  I  dinna  won'er  at  that ! "  returned  Agnes 
with  a  little  sigh.  "  Efter  the  w'y  the  maister  behaved 
til  ye,  the  laird  cud  ill  lat  ye  gang  there  again.  But 
97 


g8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

what's  he  gaein'  to  du  wi'  ye,  Maister  Cosmo,  gien  a 
body  micht  speir  'at  has  nae  richt  to  be  keerious  ? " 

"  He's  sen'in'  me  to  maister  Simon,"  answered 
Gosmo. 

"  I  wuss  I  was  gaein'  tu,"  sighed  Aggie.  "  I'm 
jist  feart  'at  I  come  to  hate  the  maister  efter  ye're 
no  to  be  seen  there,  Cosmo.  An'  we  maunna  hate, 
for  that,  ye  ken,  's  the  hin'er  en'  o'  a'  thing.  But  it 
wad  be  a  heap  easier  no  to  hate  him,  gien  I  had  nae- 
thing  tu  du  wi'  him." 

"  That  maun  be  confest,"  answered  Cosmo. — "  But," 
he  added,  "  the  hairst-play  'ill  be  here  sune,  an'  syne 
the  hairst  itsel' ;  an'  whan  ye  gang  back  ye'll  hae 
won  ower't." 

"  Na,  I  doobt  no,"  Cosmo  ;  for,  ye  sae,  as  I  hae 
h'ard  my  father  say,  the  Grades  are  a'  terrible  for 
min'in'.  Na,  there's  no  forgettin'  o'  naething.  What 
for  sud  onything  be  forgotten  ?  It's  a  cooardly  kin' 
o'  a'  w'y,  to  forget." 

"  Some  things,  I  doobt,  hae  to  be  forgotten,"  re- 
turned Cosmo,  thoughtfully.  "  Gien  ye  forgie  a 
body  for  en  stance,  ye  maun  forget  tu  —  no  sae  muckle, 
I'm  thinkin',  for  the  sake  o'  them  'at  did  ye  the  wrang, 
for  wha  wad  tak  up  again  a  fool  (foul)  thing  ance  it 
was  drappit  ?  —  but  for  yer  ain  sake ;  for  what  ye  hae 
dune  richt,  my  father  says,  maun  be  forgotten  oot  'o 
sight  for  fear  o'  corruption,  for  naething  comes  to 
stink  waur  nor  a  guid  deed  hung  up  i'  the  munelicht 
o'  the  memory. 

"  Eh  !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  "  but  ye're  unco  wice  for 
a  lad  o'  yer  'ears." 

"  I  wad  be  an  nuco  gowk,"  remarked  Cosmo,  "  gien 


THE    STUDENT.  99 


I  kent  naething,  wi'  sic  a  father  as  yon  o'  mine.  What 
wad  ye  think  o'  yersel'  gien  the  dochter  o'  Jeames 
Gracie  war  nae  mair  wice-Iike  nor  Meg  Scroggie  ?  " 

Agnes  laughed,  but  made  no  reply,  for  the  voice  of 
her  mother  came  out  of  the  dark : 

"  Wha's  that,  Aggie,  ye're  haudin'  sic  a  confab  wi' 
in  the  middle  o'  the  night  ?  Ye  tellt  me  ye  had  to  sit 
up  to  yer  lessons  !  " 

"  I  was  busy  at  them,  mither,  whan  Maister  Cosmo 
chappit  at  the  door." 

"Weel,  what  for  lat  ye  him  stan'  there?  Ye  may 
hae  yer  crack  wi'  him  as  lang  's  ye  like  —  in  rizzon, 
that  is.     Gar  him  come  in." 

"  Na,  na,  mistress  Gracie,"  answered  Cosmo ;  "  I 
maun  awa'  hame  ;  I  hae  had  a  gey  long  walk.  It's 
no  'at  I'm  tired,  but  I'm  gey  and  sleepy.  Only  I  was 
sae  pleased  'at  I  was  gaein'  to  learn  my  lessons  wi' 
Maister  Simon,  'at  I  bude  to  tell  Aggie.  She  micht 
ha'  been  won'erin',  an'  thinkin'  I  wasna  better,  gien 
she  hadna  seen  me  at  the  schuil  the  morn." 

"  Is'  warran'  her  ohn  gane  to  the  schuil  ohn  speirt 
in  at  the  Castle  the  first  thing  i'  the  mornin',  an'  seein' 
gien  the  laird  had  ony  eeran'  to  the  toon.  Little 
cares  she  for  the  maister,  gien  onybody  at  the  Hoose 
be  in  want  o'  her  !  " 

"  Is  there  naething  I  cud  help  ye  wi',  Aggie,  afore 
I  gang?"  asked  Cosmo.  "Somebody  tellt  me  ye 
was  tryin'  yer  han'  at  algebra." 

'  "Naebody  had  ony  business  to  tell  ye  ony  sic  a  thing," 
returned  Aggie,  rather  angrily.  "  It's  no  at  the  schuil 
I  wad  think  o'  sic  a  ploy.  They  wad  a'  lauch  fine  ! 
But  I  wad  fain  ken  what's  intil  the  thing.     I  CdiXmot 


lOO  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

un'erstan'  hoo  fowk  can  coont  wi'  letters  an'  crosses 
an'  strokes  in  place  o'  figgers.  I  hae  been  at  it  a 
haillook  noo  —  by  mysel',  ye  ken  —  an'  I'm  nane 
nearer  til 't  yet.  I  can  add  an'  subtrac',  accordin'  to 
the  rules  gien,  but  that's  no  un'erstan'in',  an'  un'er- 
stan' I  canna." 

"  I'm  thinkin'  it's  something  as  gien  x  was  a  horse, 
an'  y  was  a  coo,  an'  z  was  a  cairt,  or  onything  ither 
ye  micht  hae  to  ca'  't ;  an'  ye  bargain  awa'  aboot  the 
X  an'  the  y  and  the  z,  an'  ley  the  horse  i'  the  stable, 
the  coo  i'  the  byre,  an'  the  cairt  i'  the  shed,  till  ye  hae 
sattlet  a'." 

"  But  ye  ken  aboot  algebra  "  —  she  pronounced  the 
word  with  the  accent  on  the  second  syllable  —  "divna 
ye,  maister  Cosmo  ? " 

"  Na,  no  the  half,  nor  the  hun'ert  pairt.  I  only  ken 
eneuch  to  haud  me  gaein'  on  to  mair.  A  body  maun 
hae  learnt  a  heap  o'  onything  afore  the  licht  breaks 
oot  o'  't.  Ye  maun  win  throuw  the  wa'  first.  I  doobt 
gien  onybody  un'erstan's  a  thing  oot  an'  oot,  sae 
lang's  he's  no  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  gar 
anither  see  intil  the  hert  o'  't ;  an'  I  canna  gar  ye  see 
what's  intil  't  the  minute  ye  speir't  at  me ! " 

"I'm  thinkin',  hooever,  Cosmo,  a  body  maun  be 
nearhan'  seein'  o'  himsel'  afore  anither  can  lat  him 
see  onything." 

"  Ye  may  be  richt  there,"  yielded  Cosmo.  "  —  But 
jist  lat  me  see  whaur  ye  are,"  he  went  on.  "  I  may 
be  able  to  help  ye,  though  I  canna  lat  ye  see  a'  at 
once.  It  wad  be  an  ill  job  for  them  'at  needs  help, 
gien  naebody  could  help  them  but  them  'at  kent  a* 
aboot  a  thing." 


THE    STUDENT.  I03 


Without  a  word,  Aggie  turned  and  led  the  way  to 
the  "but-end."  An  iron  lamp,  burning  the  coarsest 
of  train  oil,  hung  against  the  wall,  and  under  that  she 
had  placed  the  one  movable  table  in  the  kitchen, 
which  was  white  as  scouring  could  make  it.  Upon  it 
lay  a  slate  and  a  book  of  algebra. 

"  My  cousin  Willie  lent  me  the  bulk,"  said  Aggie. 
"  What  for  didna  ye  come  to  me  to  len'  ye  ane  ?     I 
could  hae  gien  ye  a  better  nor  that,"  expostulated 
Cosmo. 

Aggie  hesitated,  but,  open  as  the  day,  she  did  not 
hesitate  long.  She  turned  her  face  from  him,  and 
answered, 

"  I  wantit  to  gie  ye  a  surprise,  Maister  Cosmo. 
Divna  ye  min'  tellin'  me  ance  'at  ye  saw  no  rizzon 
hoo  a  lassie  sudna  un'erstan'  jist  as  weel's  a  laddie. 
I  wantit  to  see  whether  ye  was  richt  or  wrang ;  an'  as 
algebra  luiket  the  maist  oonlikly  thing,  I  thoucht  I 
wad  taikle  that,  an'  sae  sattle  the  queston  at  ance. 
But,  eh  me !  I'm  sair  feart  ye  was  i'  the  wrang, 
Cosmo  ! " 

"I  maun  du  my  best  to  pruv  mysel'  i'  the  richt," 
returned  Cosmo.  "  I  never  said  onybody  cud  learn 
a'  o'  themsel's,  wantin'  help,  ye  ken.  There's  nae 
mony  laddies  cud  du  that,  an'  feower  still  wad  try." 

They  sat  down  together  at  the  table,  and  in  half  an 
hour  or  so,  Aggie  had  begun  to  see  the  faint  light  of 
at  least  the  false  dawn,  as  they  call  it,  through  the 
thickets  of  algebra.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when 
Cosmo  rose,  and  then  Aggie  would  not  let  him  go 
alone,  but  insisted  on  accompanying  him  to  the  gate 
of  the  court. 


I04  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

It  was  a  curious  relation  between  the  two.  While 
Agnes  looked  up  to  Cosmo,  about  two  years  her  ju- 
nior, as  immeasurably  her  superior  in  all  that  per- 
tained to  the  intellect  and  its  range,  she  assumed  over 
him  a  sort  of  general  human  superiority,  something 
like  that  a  mother  will  assert  over  the  most  gifted  of 
sons.  One  has  seen,  with  a  kind  of  sacred  amuse- 
ment, the  high  priest  of  many  literary  and  artistic 
circles,  set  down  with  rebuke  by  his  mother,  as  if  he 
had  been  still  a  boy  !  And  I  have  heard  the  children 
of  this  world  speak  with  like  superiority  of  the  child 
of  light  whom  they  loved  —  allowing  him  wondrous 
good,  but  regarding  him  as  a  kind  of  God's  chicken  : 
nothing  is  so  mysterious  to  the  children  of  this  world 
as  the  ways  of  the  children  of  light,  though  to  them- 
selves they  seem- simple  enough.  That  Agnes  never 
treated  Cosmo  with  this  degree  of  protective  conde- 
scension, arose  from  the  fact  that  she  was  very  nearly 
as  much  a  child  of  light  as  he ;  only,  being  a  woman, 
she  was  keener  of  perception,  and  being  older,  felt 
the  more  of  the  mother  that  every  woman  feels,  and 
made  the  most  of  it.  It  was  to  her  therefore  a  merely 
natural  thing  to  act  his  protector.  Indeed  with  re- 
spect to  the  Warlock  family  in  general,  she  counted 
herself  possessed  of  the  right  to  serve  any  one  of 
them  to  the  last  drop  of  her  blood.  From  infancy 
she  had  heard  the  laird  spoken  of  —  without  definite 
distinction  between  the  present  and  the  last —  as  the 
noblest,  best,  and  kindest  of  men,  as  the  power  which 
had  been  for  generations  over  the  family  of  the 
Grades,  for  their  help  and  healing  ;  and  hence  it  was 
impressed  upon  her  deepest  consciousness,  that  one 


THE    STUDENT. 


105 


of  the  main  reasons  of  her  existence  was  her  relation 
to  the  family  of  Glenwarlock. 

Notwithstanding  the  familiarity  I  have  shown  be- 
tween them  —  Agnes  had  but  lately  begun  to  put 
the  Master  before  Cosmo's  name,  and  as  often  forgot 
it — the  girl,  as  they  went  towards  the  castle,  although 
they  were  walking  in  deep  dusk,  and  entirely  alone, 
kept  a  little  behind  the  boy  —  not  behind  his  back, 
but  on  his  left  hand  in  the  next  rank.  No  spy  most 
curious  could  have  detected  the  least  love-making 
between  them,  and  their  talk,  in  the  still,  dark  air, 
sounded  loud  all  the  way  as  they  went.  Strange 
talk  it  would  have  been  counted  by  many,  and  indeed 
unintelligible,  for  it  ranged  over  a  vast  surface,  and 
was  the  talk  of  two  wise  children,  wise  not  above 
their  own  years  only,  but  immeasurably  above  those 
of  the  prudent.  Riches  indubitably  favour  stupidity ; 
poverty,  where  the  heart  is  right,  favours  mental  and 
moral  development.  They  parted  at  the  gate,  and 
Cosmo  went  to  bed. 

But,  although  his  father  allowed  him  such  plentiful 
liberty,  and  would  fain  have  the  boy  feel  the  night 
holy  as  the  day  —  so  that  no  one  ever  asked  where 
he  had  been,  or  at  what  hour  he  had  come  home  — 
a  question  which,  having  no  watch,  he  would  have 
found  it  hard  to  answer  —  not  an  eye  was  closed  in 
the  house  until  his  entering  footsteps  were  heard. 
The  grandmother  lay  angry  at  the  unheard  of  liberty 
her  son  gave  his  son ;  it  was  neither  decent  nor  in 
order ;  it  was  against  all  ancient  rule  of  family  life ; 
she  must  speak  about  it !  But  she  never  did  speak 
about  it,  for  she  was  now  in  her  turn  afraid  of  the  son 


Io6  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

who,  without  a  particle  of  obstinacy  in  his  composi- 
tion, yet  took  what  she  called  his  own  way.  Grizzie 
kept  grumbling  to  herself  that  the  laddie  was  sure  to 
come  to  "  mischief  ;  "  but  the  main  fonns  of  "  mis- 
chief"  that  ruled  in  her  imagination  were  tramps, 
precipices,  and  spates.  The  laird,  for  his  part,  spent 
most  of  the  time  his  son's  absence  kept  him  awake, 
in  praying  for  him  —  not  that  he  might  be  the  restorer 
of  the  family,  but  that  he  might  be  able  to  accept  the 
will  of  God  as  the  best  thing  for  family  as  for  individ- 
ual. If  his  boy  might  but  reach  the  spirit-land  un- 
soiled  and  noble,  his  prayers  were  ended. 

In  such  experiences,  the  laird  learned  to  under- 
stand how  the  catholics  come  to  pray  to  their  saints, 
and  the  Chinese  to  their  parents  and  ancestors  ;  for 
he  frequently  found  himself,  more  especially  as  drow- 
siness began  to  steal  upon  his  praying  soul,  seeming 
to  hold  council  with  his  wife  concerning  their  boy, 
and  asking  her  help  towards  such  strength  for  him  as 
human  beings  may  minister  to  each  other. 

But  Cosmo  went  up  to  bed  without  a  suspicion  that 
the  air  around  him  was  full  of  such  holy  messengers 
heavenward  for  his  sake.  He  imagined  none  anxious 
about  him  —  either  with  the  anxiety  of  grandmother 
or  of  servant-friend  or  of  great-hearted  father. 

As  he  passed  the  door  of  the  spare  room,  immedi- 
ately above  which  was  his  own,  his  dream,  preceded 
by  a  cold  shiver,  came  to  his  memory.  But  he 
scorned  to  quicken  his  pace,  or  to  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  as  he  ascended  the  second  stair.  Without 
any  need  of  a  candle,  in  the  still  faint  twilight  which 
is  the  ghosts'  day,  he  threw  off  his  clothes,  and  was 


THE    STUDENT.  107 


presently  buried  in  the  grave  of  his  bed,   under  the 
sod  of  the  blankets,  lapt  in  the  death  of  sleep. 

The  moment  he  woke,  he  jumped  out  of  bed :  a 
new  era  in  his  life  was  at  hand,  the  thought  of  which 
had  been  subjacently  present  in  his  dreams,  and 
was  operative  the  instant  he  became  conscious  of 
waking  life.  He  hurried  on  his  clothes  without  care, 
for  this  dressing  was  but  temporary.  Going  down 
the  stairs  like  a  cataract,  for  not  a  soul  slept  in 
that  part  but  himself,  and  there  was  no  fear  of 
waking  any  one,  then  in  like  manner  down  the  hill, 
he  reached  the  place  where,  with  a  final  dart,  the  tor- 
rent shot  into  the  quiet  stream  of  the  valley,  in  whose 
channel  of  rock  and  gravel  it  had  hollowed  a  deep 
basin.  This  was  Cosmo's  bath  —  and  a  splendid  one. 
His  clothes  were  off  again  more  quickly  than  he  put 
them  on,  and  head  foremost  he  shot  like  the  torrent 
into  the  boiling  mass,  where  for  a  few  moments  he 
yielded  himself  the  sport  of  the  frothy  water,  and  was 
tossed  and  tumbled  about  like  a  dead  thing.  Soon 
however,  down  in  the  heart  of  the  boil,  he  struck  out, 
and  shooting  from  under  the  fall,  rose  to  the  surface 
beyond  it,  panting  and  blowing.  To  get  out  on  the 
bank  was  then  the  work  of  one  moment,  and  to  plunge 
in  again  that  of  the  next.  Half  a  dozen  times,  with 
scarce  a  pause  between,  he  thus  plunged,  was  tossed 
and  overwhelmed,  struggled,  escaped,  and  plunged 
again.  Then  he  ran  for  a  few  moments  up  and  down 
the  bank  to  dry  himself  —  he  counted  the  use  of  a 
towel  effeminacy,  and  dressing  again,  ran  home  to 
finish  his  simple  toilet.  If  after  that  he  read  a  chap- 
ter of  his  Bible,  it  was  no  more  than  was  required  by 


Io8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

many  a  parent  of  many  a  boy  who  got  little  good  of 
the  task ;  but  Cosmo's  father  had  never  enjoined  it, 
on  him  ;  and  when  next  he  knelt  down  at  his  bedside, 
he  did  not  merely  "  say  his  prayers."  Then  he  took 
his  slate,  to  try  after  something  Aggie  had  made  him 
know  he  did  not  understand  :  —  for  the  finding  of  our 
own  intellectual  defects,  nothing  is  like  trying  to  teach 
another.  But  before  long,  certain  sensations  began 
to  warn  him  there  was  an  invention  in  the  world 
called  breakfast,  and  laying  his  slate  aside,  he  went 
to  the  kitchen,  where  he  found  Grizzle  making  the 
porridge. 

"  Min'  ye  pit  saut  eneuch  in't  the  day.  Grizzle,"  he 
said.     "  It  was  unco  wersh  yesterday." 

"  An'  what  was't  like  thestreen  {yestere'en),  Cosmo  1 " 
asked  the  old  woman,  irritated  at  being  found  fault 
with  in  a  matter  wherein  she  counted  herself  as  near 
perfection  as  ever  mortal  could  come. 

"I  had  nane  last  nicht,  ye  min',"  answered  Cosmo, 
"I  was  oot  a'  the  evenin'." 

"  An'  whaur  got  ye  yer  supper  ?  " 

"  Ow,  I  didna  want  nane.  Hoot !  I'm  forgettin' ! 
Aggie  gied  me  a  quarter  o'  breid  as  I  cam  by,  or 
rather  as  I  cam  awa',  efter  giein'  her  a  han'  wi'  her 
algebra." 

"  What  ca'  ye  that  for  a  lass  bairn  to  be  takin'  up 
her  time  wi' !  I  never  h'ard  o'  sic  a  thing  !  What's  the 
natur'  o'  't,  Cosmo  ?  " 

He  tried  to  give  her  some  far-off  idea  of  the  sort  of 
thing  algebra  was,  but  apparently  without  success,  for 
she  cried  at  length, 

"  Na,  sirs !   I  hae  h'ard  o'  cairts,  an'  bogles,  an' 


THE    STUDENT.  1 09 


witchcraft,  an'  astronomy,  but  sic  a  thing  as  this  ye 
bring  me  noo,  I  never  did  hear  tell  o' !  What  can 
the  warF  be  comin'  till !  —  An'  dis  the  father  o'  ye, 
laddie,  ken  what  ye  spen'  yer  midnicht  hoors  gangin' 
teachin'  to  the  lass-bairns  o'  the  country  roon'  ?  " 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  laird, 
and  they  sat  down  to  breakfast.  The  grandmother 
within  the  last  year  had  begun  to  take  hers  in  her  own 
room. 

Grizzle  was  full  of  anxiety  to  know  what  the  laird 
would  say  to  the  discovery  she  had  just  made, 
but  she  dared  not  hazard  allusion  to  the  con- 
duct of  his  son,  and  must  therefore  be  content  to  lead 
the  conversation  in  the  direction  of  it,  hoping  it  might 
naturally  appear.  So,  about  the  middle  of  Cosmo's 
breakfast,  that  is  about  two  minutes  after  he  had 
attacked  his  porridge,  she  approached  her  design,  if 
not  exactly  the  object  she  desired,  with  the  remark, 

"  Did  ye  never  hear  the  auld  saw,  sir  — 


Whaur's  neither  sun  nor  mune, 
Laich  things  come  abune  —  ? " 

"  I  'maist  think  I  have,  Grizzle,"  answered  the  laird. 
"  But  what  gars  ye  come  ower  't  noo  .'* " 

"  I  canna  but  think,  sir,"  returned  Grizzle,  "  as  I  lie 
i'  the  mirk,  o'  the  heap  o'  things  'at  gang  to  nae  kirk, 
oot  an'  aboot  as  sharp  as  a  gled,  whan  the  young  laird 
is  no  in  his  bed  —  oot  wi'  's  algibbry  an'  astronomy, 
an'  a'  that  kin'  o'  thing !  'Deed,  sir,  it  wadna  be  canny 
gien  they  cam  to  ken  o'  't." 

"  Wha  come  to  ken  o'  what,   Grizzle  ? "   asked  the 


no  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

laird  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  a  glance  at  Cosmo, 
who  sat  gazing  curiously  at  the  old  woman. 

"Them  'at  the  saw  speyks  o',  sir,"  said  Grizzie, 
answering  the  first  part  of  the  double  question,  as  she 
placed  two  boiled  eggs  before  her  master. 

The  laird  smiled :  he  was  too  kind  to  laugh.  Not 
a  few  laughed  at  old  Grizzie,  but  never  the  laird. 

"  Did  ye  never  hear  the  auld  saw,  Grizzie,"  he 
said : 

"  Throu  the  heather  an'  how  gaed  the  creepin'  thing, 
But  abune  was  the  waught  o'  an  angel's  wing  —  ?  " 

"Ay,  I  hae  h'ard  it  —  naegait  'cep'  here  i'  this 
hoose,"  answered  Grizzie  :  she  would  disparage  the 
authority  of  the  saying  by  a  doubt  as  to  its  gen- 
uineness. "  But,  sir,  ye  sud  never  temp'  providence. 
Wha  kens  what  may  be  oot  i'  the  nicht  ? " 

"  To  him^  Grizzie,  the  nicht  shineth  as  the  day." 

"Weel,  sir,"  cried  Grizzie,  "Ye  jist  pit  me  'at  I 
dinna  ken  mysel' !  Is't  poassible  ye  hae  forgotten 
what's  sae  weel  kent  to  a'  the  cuintry  roon'  t  —  the 
auld  captain,  'at  canna  lie  still  in's  grave,  because  o' — 
because  o'  whatever  the  rizzon  may  be?  Onygait 
he's  no  laid  yet;  an'  some  thinks  he's  doomed  to 
haunt  the  hoose  till  the  day  o'  jeedgment." 

"  I  suspec'  there  winna  be  muckle  o'  the  hoose  left 
for  him  to  haunt  'gen  that  time,  Grizzie,"  said  the 
laird.  "  But  what  for  sud  ye  put  sic  fule  things  intil 
the  bairn's  heid  ?  An'  gien  the  ghaist  haunt  the 
hoose,  isna  he  better  oot  o'  't  t  Wad  ye  hae  him  come 
hame  to  sic  company  ?  " 


THE    STUDENT.  Ill 


This  posed  Grizzle,  and  she  held  her  peace  for  the 
time. 

"Come,  Cosmo,"  said  the  laird  rising;  and  they 
set  out  together  for  Mr.  Simon's  cottage. 


CHAPTER    X. 


PETER  SIMON. 


This  man  was  not  a  native  of  the  district,  but  had 
for  some  two  years  now  been  a  dweller  in  it.  Report 
said  he  was  the  son  of  a  small  tradesman  in  a  city  at 
no  great  distance,  but,  to  those  who  knew  him,  he 
made  no  secret  of  the  fact,  that  he  had  been  found  by 
such  a  man,  a  child  of  a  few  months,  lying  on  a  pave- 
ment of  that  city,  one  stormy,  desolate  Christmas-eve, 
when  it  was  now  dark,  with  the  wind  blowing  bitterly 
from  the  north,  and  the  said  tradesman  seemingly  the 
one  inhabitant  of  the  coldest  city  in  Scotland  who 
dared  face  it.  He  had  just  closed  his  shop,  had  car- 
ried home  to  one  of  his  customers  a  forgotten  order, 
and  was  returning  to  his  wife  and  a  childless  hearth, 
when  he  all  but  stumbled  over  the  infant.  Before 
stooping  to  lift  him,  he,  looked  all  about  to  see  if 
there  was  nobody  to  do  it  instead.  There  was  not  a 
human  being,  or  even  what  comes  next  to  one,  a  dog 
.  in  sight,  and  the  wind  was  blowing  like  a  blast  from 
a  frozen  hell.  There  was  no  help  for  it :  he  must 
II.? 


HE   CARRIED    IT    HOME. 


114  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

rendering  the  struggle  for  existence  severer  still ! 
They  did  not  reckon  what  strength  the  additional 
motive,  what  heart  the  new  love,  what  uplifting  the 
hope  of  help  from  on  high,  kindled  by  their  righteous 
deed,  might  give  them  —  for  God  likes  far  better 
to  help  people  from  the  inside  than  from  the  outside. 
They  did  not  think  that  this  might  be  just  the  fresh 
sting  of  life  that  the  fainting  pair  required.  To  mark 
their  disapproval,  some  of  them  immediately  withdrew 
what  little  custom  they  had  given  them  :  one  who  had 
given  them  none,  promised  them  the  whole  of  hers, 
the  moment  they  sent  the  child  away ;  while  others, 
with  equal  inconsistency,  doubled  theirs,  and  did 
what  they  could  to  send  them  fresh  customers  :  they 
were  a  pair  of  good-natured  fools,  but  they  ought  not 
to  be  let  starve  !  From  that  time  they  began  to 
get  on  a  little  better.  And  still  as  the  boy  grew,  and 
wanted  more,  they  had  the  little  more.  For  it  so 
happened  that  the  boy  turned  out  to  be  one  of  God's 
creatures,  and  it  looked  as  if  the  Maker  of  him,  who 
happened  also  to  be  the  ruler  of  the  world,  was  not 
altogether  displeased  with  those  who  had  taken  him 
to  their  hearts,  instead  of  leaving  him  to  the  parish. 
The  child  was  the  light  of  the  house  and  of  the  shop, 
a  beauty  to  the  eyes,  and  a  joy  in  the  heart  of 
both.  But  perhaps  the  best  proof  that  they  had  done 
right,  lay  in  the  fact  that  they  began  to  love  each 
other  better  from  the  very  next  day  after  they  took 
him  in,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  one  cause  of  their  not 
getting  on  well,  had  been  that  they  did  not  pull  well 
together.  Thus  we  can  explain  the  improvement  in 
their  circumstances  by  reference  to  merest  "  natural 


PETER    SIMON. 


15 


causes,"  without  having  recourse  to  the  distasteful 
idea  that  a  power  in  the  land  of  superstition,  with 
a  weakness  called  a  special  providence,  was  interested 
in  the  matter. 

But  foolishness  such  as  theirs  is  apt  to  increase 
with  years ;  and  so  they  sent  the  foundling  to  the 
grammar-school,  and  thence  to  college  —  not  a  very 
difficult  affair  in  that  city.  At  college  he  did  not 
greatly  distinguish  himself,  for  his  special  gifts, 
though  peculiar  enough,  were  not  of  a  kind  to  dis- 
tinguish a  man  much,  either  in  that  city  or  in  this 
world.  But  he  grew  and  prospered  nevertheless,  and 
became  a  master  in  one  of  the  schools.  His  father 
and  mother,  as  he  called  them,  would  gladly  have 
made  a  minister  of  him,  but  of  that  he  would  never 
hear.  He  lived  with  them  till  they  died,  always 
bringing  home  to  them  his  salary,  minus  only  the 
little  that  he  spent  on  books.  His  life,  his  devotion 
and  loving  gratitude,  so  wrought  upon  them,  that  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  opened  its  doors  to  them,  and 
they  were  the  happiest  old  couple  in  that  city.  Of 
course  this  was  all  an  accident,  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  being  but  a  dream,  the  dignity  of  natural 
cause  can  scarcely  consent  to  work  to  the  end  of  de- 
lusion ;  but  the  good  natured  pair  were  foolish  enough 
to  look  upon  their  miserable  foundling  as  a  divine 
messenger,  an  angel  entertained  not  for  long  un- 
awares, and  the  cause  of  all  the  good  luck  that  fol- 
lowed his  entrance.  They  never  spent  a  penny  of  his 
salary,  but  added  to  it,  and  saved  it  up,  and  when 
they  went,  very  strangely  left  all  they  had  to  this  same 
angel  of  a  beggar,  instead  of  to  their  own  relations, 


Il6  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

who  would  have  been  very  glad  of  it,  for  they  had  a 
good  deal  more  of  their  own. 

The  foundling  did  not  care  to  live  longer  in  any 
city,  but  sought  a  place  as  librarian,  and  was  suc- 
cessful. In  the  family  of  an  English  lord  he  lived 
many  years,  and  when  time's  changes  rendered  it 
necessary  he  should  depart,  he  retired  to  the  cottage 
on  the  Warlock.  There  he  was  now  living  the  quiet- 
est of  quiet  lives,  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  but 
a  few  —  chiefly  that  of  the  laird,  James  Gracie,  and 
the  minister  of  the  parish.  Among  the  people  of  the 
neighbourhood  he  was  regarded  as  "no  a'thegither 
there."  This  judgment  possibly  arose  in  part  from 
the  fact  that  he  not  unfrequently  wandered  about  the 
fields  from  morning  to  night,  and  sometimes  from 
night  to  morning.  Then  he  never  drar^k  anything 
worthy  of  the  name  of  drink  —  seldom  anything  but 
water  or  milk  !  That  he  never  ate  animal  food  was 
not  so  notable  where  many  never  did  so  from  one 
year's  end  to  another's.  As  he  was  no  propagandist, 
few  had  any  notion  of  his  opinions,  beyond  a  general 
impression  that  they  were  unsound. 

Cosmo  had  heard  some  of  the  peculiarities  attrib- 
uted to  him,  and  was  filled  with  curious  expectation 
as  to  the  manner  of  man  he  was  about  to  meet,  for, 
oddly  enough,  he  had  never  yet  seen  him  except  at  a 
distance ;  but  anxiety,  not  untinged  with  awe,  was 
mingled  with  his  curiosity. 

Mr.  Simon's  cottage  was  some  distance  up  the  val- 
ley, at  an  angle  where  it  turned  westward.  It  stood 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Warlock,  at  the  foot  of  a  small 
clifl  that  sheltered  it  from  the  north,  while  in  front 


PETER    SIMON.  II7 


the  Stream  came  galloping  down  to  it  from  the  sun- 
set. The  immediate  bank  between  the  cottage  and 
the  water  was  rocky  and  dry,  but  the  ground  on  which 
the  cottage  stood  was  soil  washed  from  the  hills. 
There  Mr.  Simon  had  a  little  garden  for  flowers  and 
vegetables,  with  a  summer  seat  in  which  he  smoked 
his  pipe  of  an  evening  —  for,  however  inconsistent 
the  habit  may  seem  with  the  rest  of  the  man,  smoke 
he  did :  slowly  and  gently  and  broodingly  did  the 
man  smoke,  thinking  a  great  deal  more  than  he 
smoked,  and  making  his  one  pipe  last  a  long  time. 
His  garden  was  full  of  flowers,  but  of  the  most  ordi- 
nary kinds  ;  rarity  was  no  recommendation  to  him. 
Some  may  think  that  herein  he  was  unlike '  himself, 
seeing  his  opinions  were  of  the  rarest ;  but  in  truth 
never  once  did  Peter  Simon,  all  his  life,  adopt  an 
opinion  because  of  its  strangeness.  He  never  adopted 
an  opinion  at  all ;  he  believed  —  he  loved  what  seem- 
ed to  him  true  :  how  it  looked  to  others  he  concerned 
himself  little. 

The  cottage  was  of  stone  and  lime,  nowise  the  less 
thorougly  built  that  the  stones  were  unhewn.  It  was 
harled^  that  is  rough-cast,  and  shone  very  white  both 
in  sun  and  moon.  It  contained  but  two  rooms  and  a 
closet  between,  with  one  under  the  thatch  for  the  old 
woman  who  kept  house  for  him.  Altogether  it  was  a 
very  ordinary,  and  not  very  promising  abode. 

But  when  they  were  shown  ben  to  the  parlour, 
Cosmo  was  struck  with  nothing  less  than  astonish- 
ment :  the  walls  from  floor  to  ceiling  were  covered 
with  books.  Not  a  square  foot  all  over  was  vacant. 
Even  the  chimney-piece  was  absorbed,  assimilated. 


Il8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

turned  into  a  book-shelf,  and  so  obliterated.  Mr.  Si- 
mon's pipe  lay  on  the  hob  ;  and  there  was  not  another 
spot  where  it  could  have  lain.  There  was  not  a  shelf, 
a  cupboard  to  be  seen.  Books,  books  everywhere, 
and  nothing  but  books  !  Even  the  door  that  led  to 
the  closet  where  he  slept,  was  covered  over,  and,  like 
the  mantleshelf,  obliterated  with  books.  They  were 
but  about  twelve  hundred  in  all ;  to  the  eyes  of  Cosmo 
it  seemed  a  mighty  library  —  a  treasure-house  for  a 
royal  sage. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  room  when  they  entered, 
and  Cosmo  was  yet  staring  in  mute  astonishment, 
when  suddenly  Mr.  Simon  was  addressing  his  father. 
But  the  door  had  not  opened,  and  how  he  came  in 
seemed  inexplicable.  To  the  eyes  of  the  boy  the 
small  man  before  him  assumed  gigantic  proportions. 

But  he  was  in  truth  below  the  middle  height,  some- 
what round-shouldered,  with  long  arms,  and  small, 
well-shaped  hands.  His  hair  was  plentiful,  grizzled, 
and  cut  short.  His  head  was  large  and  his  forehead 
wide,  with  overhanging  brows ;  his  eyes  were  small, 
dark,  and  brilliant ;  his  nose  had  a  certain  look  of 
decision  -—  but  a  nose  is  a  creature  beyond  descrip- 
tion ;  his  mouth  was  large,  and  his  chin  strong ;  his 
complexion  dark,  and  his  skin  rugged.  The  only  fine 
features  about  him  were  his  two  ears,  which  were 
delicate  enough  for  a  lady.  His  face  was  not  at 
first  sight  particularly  attractive ;  indeed  it  was  rather 
gloomy  —  till  he  smiled,  not  a  moment  after ;  for  that 
smile  was  the  true  interpreter  of  the  mouth,  and, 
through  the  mouth,  of  the  face,  which  was  never  the 
same  as  before  to  one  that  had  seen  it. 


PETER    SIMON.  II9 


After  a  word  or  two  about  the  book  he  had  bor- 
rowed, the  laird  took  his  departure,  saying  the  sooner 
he  left  master  and  pupil  to  themselves  the  better. 
Mr.  Simon  acquiesced  with  a  smile,  and  presently 
Cosmo  was  facing  his  near  future,  not  without  some 
anxiety. 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE   NEW   SCHOOLING. 


Without  a  word,  Mr.  Simon  opened  a  drawer,  and 
taking  from  it  about  a  score  of  leaves  of  paper, 
handed  one  of  them  to  Cosmo.  Upon  it,  in  print, 
was  a  stanza  —  one,  and  no  more. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  that  showed 
through  his  eyes  the  light  burning  inside  him,  "  and 
tell  me  if  you  understand  it.  I  don't  want  you  to 
ponder  over  it,  but  to  say  at  a  reading  whether  you 
know  what  it  means." 

Cosmo  obeyed  and  read. 

"  I  dinna  mak  heid  nor  tail  o'  't,  sir,"  he  answered, 
looking  over  the  top  of  the  paper  like  a  prisoned 
sheep. 

Mr.  Simon  took  it  from  him,  and  handed  him 
another. 

"Try  that,"  he  said. 

Cosmo  read,  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  looked 
troubled. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Simon.     "  The 

120 


THE    NEW    SCHOOLING.  121 

thing  is  of  no  consequence  for  judgment ;  it  is  only 
for  discovery." 

The  remark  conveyed  but  little  consolation  to  the 
pupil,  who  would  gladly  have  stood  well  in  his  own 
eyes  before  his  new  master. 

One  after  another  Mr.  Simon  handed  him  the 
papers  he  held.  About  the  fifth  or  sixth,  Cosmo 
exclaimed, 

"  I  do  understand  that,  sir." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  Mr.  Simon,  without  showing 
any  special  satisfaction,  and  immediately  handed  him 
another. 

This  was  again  a  non-luminous  body,  and  indeed 
cast  a  shadow  over  the  face  of  the  embryo  student. 
One  by  one  Mr.  Simon  handed  him  all  he  held.  Out 
of  the  score  there  were  three  Cosmo  said  he  under- 
stood, and  four  he  thought  he  should  understand  if 
he  were  allowed  to  read  them  over  two  or  three  times* 
But  Mr.  Simon  laid  them  all  together  again,  and  back 
into  the  drawer. 

"  Now  I  shall  know  what  I  am  about,"  he  said. 
"  Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing  at  school." 

Were  my  book  a  treatise  on  education,  it  might 
be  worth  while  to  give  some  account  of  Peter  Simon's 
ways  of  furthering  human  growth.  But  intellectual 
development  is  not  my  main  business  or  interest,  and 
I  mean  to  say  little  more  concerning  Cosmo's  than 
that,  after  about  six  weeks'  work,  the  boy  one  day 
begged  Mr.  Simon  to  let  him  look  at  those  papers 
again,  and  found  to  his  delight  that  he  understood  all 
but  three  or  four  of  them. 

That   first   day,  Mr.   Simon  gave  him    an  ode  of 


122  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

Horace,  and  a  poem  by  Wordsworth  to  copy — telling 
him  to  put  in  every  point  as  it  was  in  the  book 
exactly,  but  to  note  any  improvement  he  thought 
might  be  made  in  the  pointing.  He  told  him  also  to 
look  whether  he  could  see  any  resemblance  between 
the  two  poems. 

As  he  sat  surrounded  by  the  many  books,  Cosmo 
felt  as  if  he  were  in  the  heart  of  a  cloud  of  witnesses 

That  first  day  .was  sufficient  to  make  the  heart  oif 
the  boy  cleave  to  his  new  master.  For  one  thing 
Mr.  Simon  always,  in  anything  done,  took  note  first 
of  the  things  that  pleased  him,  and  only  after  tha^ 
proceeded  to  remark  on  the  faults  —  most  of  which 
he  treated  as  imperfections,  letting  Cosmo  see  plainly 
that  he  understood  how  he  had  come  to  go  wrong. 

Such  an  education  as  Mr.  Simon  was  thus  attempt-^ 
ing  with  Cosmo,  is  hardly  to  be  given  to  more  than 
one  at  a  time  ;  and  indeed  there  are  not  a  great  many 
boys  on  whom  it  would  be  much  better  than  lost 
labour.  Cosmo,  however,  was  now  almost  as  eager 
to  go  to  his  lessons,  as  before  to  spend  a  holiday. 
Mr.  Simon  never  gave  him  anything  to  do  at  home, 
heartily  believing  it  the  imperative  duty  of  a  teacher 
to  leave  room  for  the  scholar  to  grow  after  the  fash^ 
ion  in  which  he  is  made,  and  that  what  a  boy  does 
by  himself  is  of  greater  import  than  what  he  does 
with  any  master.  Such  leisure  may  indeed  be  of 
comparatively  small  consequence  with  regard  to  the 
multitude  of  boys,  but  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
wherever  one  is  born  with  his  individuality  so  far  de- 
termined, as  to  be  on  the  point  of  beginning  to  de- 
velop itself.     When  Cosmo  therefore  went  home,  he 


THE    NEW    SCHOOLING.  1 23 

read  or  wrote  what  he  pleased,  wandered  about  at  his 
will,  and  dreamed  to  his  heart's  content.  Nor  was  it 
long  before  he  discovered  that  his  dreams  themselves 
were  becoming  of  greater  import  to  him  —  that  they 
also  were  being  influenced  by  Mr.  Simon.  And 
there  were  other  witnesses  there,  quite  as  silent  as 
those  around  him  in  the  library,  and  more  unseen, 
who  would  not  remain  speechless  or  invisible  always. 

One  day  Cosmo  came  late,  and  to  say  there  were 
traces  of  tears  on  his  cheeks  would  hardly  be  correct, 
for  his  eyes  were  swollen  with  weeping.  His  master 
looked  at  him  almost  wistfully,  but  said  nothing  until 
he  had  settled  for  a  while  to  his  work,  and  was  a 
little  composed.  He  asked  him  then  what  was 
amiss,  and  the  boy  told  him.  To  most  boys  it  would 
have  seemed  small  ground  for  such  heart-breaking 
sorrow. 

Amongst  the  horses  on  the  farm,  was  a  certain 
small  mare,  which,  although  she  worked  as  hard  as 
any,  was  yet  an  excellent  one  to  ride,  and  Cosmo,  as 
often  as  there  was  not  much  work  doing,  rode  her 
where  he  would,  and  boy  and  mare  were  much  at- 
tached to  each  other.  Sometimes  he  would  have  her 
every  day  for  several  weeks,  and  that  would  be  in  the 
prime  of  the  summer  weather,  when  the  harvest  was 
drawing  nigh,  and  the  school  had  its  long  yearly  holi- 
day. Summer,  the  harvest — ''play,"  and  Linty  !  — 
oh,  large  bliss !  my  heart  swells  at  the  thought. 
They  would  be  out  for  hours  together,  perhaps  not 
far  from  home  all  the  time  —  on  the  top  of  a  hill  it 
might  be,  whence  Cosmo  could  see  when  he  would 
^e  castle  below.     There,  the  whole  sleepy  afternoon, 


124  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

he  would  lie  in  the  heather,  with  Linty,  the  mare, 
feeding  amongst  it,  ready  to  come  at  his  call,  receive 
him  on  her  back,  and  carry  him  where  he  would ! 

But  alas !  though  supple  and  active,  Linty  was  old, 
and  the  day  could  not  be  distant  when  they  must  part 
company  :  she  was  then  nine  and  twenty.  And  now 
—  the  night  before,  she  had  been  taken  ill :  there 
was  a  disease  about  amongst  the  horses.  The  men 
had  been  up  with  her  all  night,  and  Grizzle  too :  she 
had  fetched  her  own  pillow  and  put  under  her  head, 
then  sat  by  it  for  hours.  When  Cosmo  left,  she  was 
a  little  better,  but  great  fears  were  entertained  as  to 
the  possibility  of  her  recovery. 

"  She's  sae  terrible  aul'!  ye  see,  sir,"  said  Cosmo, 
as  he  ended  his  tale  of  woe,  and  burst  out  crying 
afresh. 

"  Cosmo,"  said  Mr.  Simon, —  and  to  a  southern 
ear  the  issuing  of  such  sweet  solemn  thoughts  in 
such  rough  northern  speech,  might  have  seemed 
strange,  though,  to  be  sure,  the  vowels  were  finely 
sonorous  if  the  consonants  were  harsh, —  "  Cosmo, 
your  heart  is  faithful  to  your  mare,  but  is  it  equally 
faithful  to  him  that  made  your  mare  ? " 

"I  ken  it's  his  wull,"  answered  Cosmo:  —  his 
master  never  took  notice  whether  he  spoke  in  broad 
Scotch  or  bastard  English  —  "I  ken  mears  maun 
dee,  but  eh !  she  was  sic  a  guid  ane  !  —  Sir !  I  canna 
bide  it." 

"  Ye  ken  wha  sits  by  the  deein'  sparrow  ? "  said 
Mr.  Simon,  himself  taking  to  the  dialect.  "  Cosmo 
there  was  a  better  nor  Grizzle,  an'  nearer  to  Linty  a' 
the  lang  nicht.     Things  v/arna  gangin'  sae  ill  wi'  her 


THE    NEW    SCHOOLING. 


as  ye  thoucht.  Life's  an  awfu'  mystery,  Cosmo,  but 
it's  jist  the  ae  thing  the  maker  o'  't  can  haud  nearest 
til,  for  it's  nearest  til  himsel'  i'  the  mak  o'  't. —  Fowk 
may  tell  me,"  he  went  on,  more  now  as  if  he  were 
talking  to  himself  than  to  the  boy,  "  'at  I  sud  content 
mysel'  wi'  what  I  see  an'  hear,  an'  lat  alane  sic  eese- 
less  speculations !  wi'  deein'  men  an'  mears  a'  aboot 
me,  hoo  can  I !  They're  onything  but  eeseless  to  me, 
for  gien  I  had  naething  but  what  I  see  an'  hear,  gran' 
an'  bonny  as  a  heap  o'  't  is,  I  wad  jist  smore  for  want 
o'  room." 

"But  what's  the  guid  o'  't  a',  whan  I'll  never  see 
her  again  ?  "  sobbed  Cosmo. 

"  Wha  says  sic  a  thing,  laddie  ? " 

"A'  body,"  answered  Cosmo,  a  good  deal  aston- 
ished at  the  question. 

"  Maister  A'  body  has  a  heap  o'  the  gawk  in  him 
yet,  Cosmo,"  replied  his  master.  "  Infac'  he's  scarce 
mair  nor  an  infant  yet,  though  he  wull  speyk  as  gien 
the  haill  universe  o'  wisdom  an'  knowledge  war  open 
til  'im !  There's  no  a  word  o'  the  kin'  i'  the  haill 
Bible,  nor  i'  the  hert  o'  man  —  nor  i'  the  hert  o'  the 
Maker,  do  I,  i'  the  hert  o'  me,  believe  Cosmo,  can  ye 
believe  'at  that  wee  bit  foal  o'  an  ass  'at  carriet  the 
maister  o'  's,  a'  alang  yon  hill-road  frae  Bethany  to 
Jerus'lem,  cam  to  sic  an  ill  hin  'er  en'  as  to  be  for- 
gotten by  him  he  cairriet  ?  No  more  can  I  believe 
that  jist  'cause  it  carriet  him  it  was  ae  hair  better 
luiket  efter  nor  ony  ither  bit  assie  foalt  i'  the  Ian'  o' 
Isr'el." 

"  The  disciples  micht  hae  min't  it  til  the  cratur,  an' 
liukit  efter  him  for't,"  suggested  Cosmo. 


126  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

His  master  looked  pleased. 

"  They  could  but  work  the  will  o'  him  that  made 
the  ass,"  he  said,  "  an  does  the  best  for  a'  thing  an' 
a'  body,  Na,  na,  my  son  !  gien  I  hae  ony  pooer  to 
read  the  trowth  o'  things,  the  life  'at 's  gien  is  no  taen ; 
an'  whatever  come  o'  the  cratur,  the  love  it  waukent 
in  a  human  breist,  'ill  no  more  be  lost  than  the 
objec'  o'  the  same.  That  a  thing  can  love  an'  be 
loved  —  an'  that's  yer  bonnie  mearie,  Cosmo  —  is  jist 
a'  ane  to  sayin'  'at  it's  immortal,  for  God  is  love,  an' 
whatever  partakes  o'  the  essence  o'  God ,  canna  dee, 
but  maun  gang  on  livin'  till  it  please  him  to  say  baud, 
an'  that  he'll  never  say." 

By  this  time  the  face  of  the  man  was  glowing  like 
an  altar  on  which  had  descended  the  fire  of  the  high- 
est heaven.  His  confidence  entered  the  heart  of 
Cosmo,  and  when  the  master  ceased,  he  turned,  with 
a  sigh  of  gladness  and  relief,  to  his  work,  and  wept 
no  more.  The  possible  entrance  of  Linty  to  an  en- 
larged existence,'  widened  the  whole  heaven  of  his 
conscious  being ;  the  well-spring  of  personal  life  within 
him  seemed  to  rush  forth  in  mighty  volume  ;  and 
through  that  grief  and  its  consolation,  the  boy  made 
a  great  stride  towards  manhood. 

One  day  in  the  first  week  of  his  new  schooling,  Cosmo 
took  occasion  to  mention  Aggie's  difficulty  with  her 
algebra,  and  her  anxiety  to  find  whether  it  was  true 
that  a  girl  could  do  as  well  as  a  boy.  Mr.  Simon  was 
much  interested,  and  with  the  instinct  of  the  true  hun- 
ter, whose  business  it  is  to  hunt  death  for  the  sake  of 
life,  began  to  think  whether  here  might  not  be  an- 
other prepared  to  receive.     He  knew  her  father  well, 


THE    NEW    SCHOOLING.  I27 

but  had  made  no  acquaintance  with  Agnes  yet,  who 
indeed  was  not  a  little  afraid  of  him,  for  he  looked  as 
if  he  were  always  thinking  about  things  nobody  else 
knew  of,  although,  in  common  with  every  woman  who 
saw  it,  she  did  find  his  smile  reassuring.  No  doubt 
the  peculiar  feeling  of  the  neighbours  concerning  him 
had  caused  her  involuntarily  to  associate  with  him  the 
idea  of  something  "  no  canny."  Not  the  less,  when 
she  heard  from  Cosmo  what  sort  of  man  his  new  mas- 
ter was,  would  she  have  given  all  she  possessed  to  learn 
of  him.  And  before  long,  she  had  her  chance.  Old 
Dorothy,  Mr.  Simon's  servant  and  housekeeper  was 
one  day  taken  ill,  and  Cosmo  mentioning  the  fact  in 
Aggie's  hearing,  she  ran,  with  a  mere  word  to  her 
mother,  and  not  a  moments'  cogitation,  to  offer 
her  assistance  till  she  was  better. 

It  turned  out  that  "  auld  Dorty,"  as  the  neighbours 
called  her,  not  without  some  hint  askance  at  the 
quality  of  her  temper,  was  not  verj'  seriously  ailing, 
yet  sufficiently  so  to  accept  a  little  help  for  the 
rougher  work  of  the  house  ;  and  while  Aggie  was  on 
her  knees  washing  the  slabs  of  the  passage  that  led 
through  to  the  back  door,  the  master,  as  she  always 
called  him  now  that  Cosmo  was  his  pupil,  happened 
to  come  from  his  room,  and  saw  and  addressed  her. 
She  rose  in  haste,  mechanically  drying  her  hands 
in  her  apron. 

"  How's  the  algebra  getting  on,  Agnes  ? "  he  said. 

"Naething's  gettin'  on  verra  weel  sin'  maister 
Cosmo  gaed  frae  the  schuil,  sir.  I  dinna  seem  to 
hae  the  hert  for  the  learnin'  'at  I  had  sae  lang  as  he 
was  there,  sae   far  aheid   o'  me,  but  no  a'thegither 


128  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

oot  'o  my  sicht,  like.  —  It  soon's  a  conceitit  kin'  o'  a 
thing  to  say,  but  I'm  no  meanin'  ony thing  o'  that 
natur',  sir." 

"  I  understand  you  very  well,  Agnes,"  returned  the 
master.  "  Would  you  like  to  have  some  lessons 
with  me  ?  I  don't  say  along  with  Cosmo  ;  you  would 
hardly  be  able  for  that  at  present,  I  fancy  —  but  at 
such  times  as  you  could  manage  to  come  —  odd 
times,  when  you  were  not  wanted." 

"  There's  naething  upo'  the  airth,  sir,"  s.aid  Aggie, 
"  'at  I  wad  like  half  sae  weel.  Thae  jist  a  kin'  o'  a 
hoonger  upo'  me  for  un'erstan'in'  things.  Its  frae 
bein'  sae  muckle  wi'  Maister  Cosmo,  I'm  thinkin'  — 
ever  sin'  he  was  a  bairn,  ye  ken,  sir ;  for  bein'  twa 
year  aul'er  nor  him,  I  was  a  kin'  o'  a  wee  nursie  til 
him  ;  an'  ever  sin'  syne  we  hae  had  nae  secrets  frae 
ane  anither  ;  an'  ye  ken  what  he's  like  —  aye  wantin' 
to  win  at  the  boddom  o'  things,  an'  that's  infeckit  me, 
sae  'at  I  canna  rist  whan  I  see  onybody  un'erstan'in' 
a  thing,  till  I  set  aboot  gettin'  a  grip  o'  't  mysel'." 

"  A  very  good  infection  to  take,  Agnes,"  replied 
the  master,  with  a  smile  of  thorough  pleasure,  "  and 
one  that  will  do  more  for  you  than  the  cow-pox. 
Come  to  me  as  often  as  you  can  —  and  as  you  like. 
I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  some  things  to  make 
you  happier." 

"  'Deed,  sir,  I'm  in  no  want  o'  happiness  !  O'  that 
I  hae  full  mair  nor  I  deserve  ;  but  I  want  a  heap  for 
a'  that.  I  canna  say  what  it  is,  for  the  hoonger  is  for 
what  I  haena." 

"  Another  of  God's  children  !  "  said  the  master  to 
himself,  "  and  full    of  the  groanings   of  the    spirit ! 


THE    NEW    SCHOOLING.  1 29 


The  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  shall  be  glad 
for  them." 

He  often  quoted  scripture  as  the  people  of  the 
New  Testament  did  —  not  much  minding  the  origi- 
nal application  of  the  words.  Those  that  are  filled 
with  the  spirit,  have  always  taken  liberties  with  the 
letter. 

That  very  evening  before  she  went  home,  they  had 
a  talk  about  algebra,  and  several  other  things.  Agnes 
went  no  more  to  school,  but  almost  every  day  to  see 
the  master,  avoiding  the  hours  when  Cosmo  would  be 
there. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

grannie's  ghost  story. 

Things  went  on  very  quietly.  The  glorious  days 
of  harvest  came  and  went,  and  left  the  fields  bare  for 
the  wintry  revelling  of  great  blasts.  The  potatoes 
were  all  dug  up,  and  again  buried  —  deeper  than  be- 
fore, in  pits,  with  sheets  of  straw  and  blankets  of 
earth  to  protect  them  from  the  biting  of  the  frost. 
Their  stalks  and  many  weeds  with  them  were  burned, 
and  their  ashes  scattered.  Some  of  the  land  was 
ploughed,  and  some  left  till  the  spring.  Before  the  au- 
tumn rains  the  stock  of  peats  was  brought  from  the  hill, 
where  they  had  been  drying  through  the  hot  weather, 
and  a  splendid  stack  they  made.  Coal  was  carted  from 
the  nearest  sea-port,  though  not  in  such  quantity  as 
the  laird  would  have  liked,  for  money  was  as  scarce 
as  ever,  and  that  is  to  put  its  lack  pretty  strongly. 
Everything  available  for  firewood  was  collected,  and, 
if  of  any  size,  put  under  saw  and  axe,  then  stored  in 
the  house.  Good  preparation  was  thus  made  for  the 
siege  of  the  winter. 

130 


grannie's  ghost  story.  131 

In  their  poverty,  partly  no  doubt  from  considera- 
tion, they  seemed  to  be  much  forgotten.  The  family 
was  like  an  old  thistle-head,  withering  on  its  wintry 
stalk,  alone  in  a  wind-swept  field.  All  the  summer 
through  not  a  single  visitor,  friend  or  stranger,  had 
slept  in  the  house.  A  fresh  face  was  more  of  a  won- 
der to  Cosmo  than  to  desert-haunting  Abraham.  The 
human  heart,  like  the  human  body,  can  live  without 
much  variety  to  feed  on,  but  its  house  is  built  on  a 
lordly  scale  for  hospitality,  and  is  capable  of  wel- 
coming every  new  face  as  a  new  revelation.  Steadily 
Cosmo  went  to  his  day's  work  with  the  master,  stead- 
ily returned  to  his  home ;  saw  nothing  new,  yet 
learned  day  by  day,  as  he  went  and  came,  to  love  yet 
more,  not  the  faces  of  the  men  and  women  only,  but 
the  aspects  of  the  country  in  which  he  was  born,  to 
read  the  lines  and  shades  of  its  var^dng  beauty  :  .if  it 
was  not  luxuriant  enough  to  satisfy  his  ideal,  i;;  had 
yet  endless  loveliness  to  disclose  to  him  v/ho  already 
loved  enough  to  care  to  understand  it.  When  the 
autumn  came,  it  made  him  sad,  for  it  was  not  in  har- 
mony with  the  forward  look  of  his  young  life,  which, 
though  not  ambitious,  was  vaguely  expectant.  But 
when  the  hoar  frosts  appeared,  when  the  clouds  gath- 
ered, when  the  winds  began  to  wail,  and  the  snows  to 
fall,  then  his  spirits  rose  to  meet  the  invading  death. 
The  old  castle  grew  grayer  and  grayer  outside,  but 
ruddier  and  merrier  within.  Oh,  that  awful  gray  and 
white  Scottish  winter  —  dear  to  my  heart  as  I  sit  and 
write  with  window  wide  open  to  the  blue  skies  of 
Italy's  December  ! 

Cosmo  kept  up  his  morning  bath  in  "the  pot"  as 


132  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

long  as  he  could,  but  when  sleet  and  rain  came,  and 
he  could  no  longer  dry  himself  by  running  about,  he 
did  not  care  for  it  longer,  but  waited  for  the  snow  to 
come  in  plenty,  which  was  a  sure  thing,  for  then  he 
had  a  substitute.  It  came  of  the  ambition  of  hardy 
endurance,  and  will  scarcely  seem  credible  to  some  of 
my  readers.  In  the  depth  of  the  winter,  when  the 
cold  was  at  its  strongest,  provided  only  the  snow  lay 
pretty  deep,  he  would  jump  from  his  warm  bed  with 
the  first  glimmer  of  the  morning,  and  running  out,  in 
a  light  gray  with  the  grayness  of  what  is  frozen,  to  a 
hollow  on  the  hillside  a  few  yards  from  the  house, 
there  pull  off  his  night-garment,  and  roll  in  the  snow, 
kneading  handfuls  of  it,  and  rubbing  himself  with  it 
all  over.  Thus  he  believed  he  strengthened  himself 
to  stand  the  cold  of  the  day ;  and  happily  he  was 
strong  enough  to  stand  the  strengthening,  and  so  in- 
creased his  hardihood :  what  would  have  been  death  to 
ftiany  was  to  him  invigo ration.  He  knew  nothing  of 
boxing,  or  rowing,  or  billiards,  but  he  could  run  and 
jump  well,  and  ride  very  fairly,  and,  above  all,  he  could 
endure.  In  the  last  harvest  he  had  for  the  first  time 
wielded  a  scythe,  and  had  held  his  own  with  the  rest, 
though,  it  must  be  allowed,  with  a  fierce  struggle. 
The  next  spring  —  I  may  mention  it  here — he  not 
only  held  the  plough,  but  by  patient  persistence  and 
fearless  compulsion  trained  two  young  bulls  to  go  in 
it,  saving  many  weeks'  labour  of  a  pair  of  horses.  It 
filled  his  father  with  pride,  and  hope  for  his  boy's 
coming  fight  with  the  world.  Even  the  eyes  of  his 
grandmother  would  after  that  brighten  at  mention  of 
him ;  she  began  to  feel  proud  that  she  had  a  share  in 


grannie's  ghost  story.  133 

the  existence  of  the  lad :  if  he  did  so  well  when  a 
hobbledehoy,  he  might  be  something  by  the  time  he 
was  a  man !  But  one  thing  troubled  her :  he  was  no 
sportsman  ;  he  never  went  out  to  hunt  the  otter,  or  to 
shoot  hares  or  rabbits  or  grouse  or  partridges  !  and 
that  was  unnatural !  The  fact  was,  ever  since  that 
talk  with  the  master  about  Linty,  he  could  not  bear 
to  kill  anything,  and  was  now  and  then  haunted  by 
the  dying  eyes  of  the  pigeon  he  shot  the  first  time  he 
handled  a  gun.  The  grandmother  thought  it  a  defect 
in  his  manhood  that  he  did  not  like  shooting ;  but, 
woman,  and  old  woman  as  she  was,  his  heart  was 
larger  and  tenderer  than  hers,  and  got  in  the  way  of 
the  killing. 

His  father  had  never  troubled  his  young  life  with 
details  concerning  the  family  affairs ;  he  had  only  let 
him  know  that,  for  many  years,  through  extravagance 
and  carelessness  in  those  who  preceded  his  father, 
things  had  been  going  from  bad  to  worse.  But  this 
was  enough  to  wake  in  the  boy  the  desire,  and  it  grew 
in  him  as  he  grew,  to  rescue  what  was  left  of  the 
estate  from  its  burdens,  and  restore  it  to  independ- 
ence and  so  to  honour.  He  said  nothing  of  it,  how- 
ever, to  his  father,  feeling  the  presumption  of  proposing 
to  himself  what  his  father  had  been  unable  to 
effect. 

He  went  oftener  to  the  village  this  winter  than 
before,  and  rarely  without  going  to  see  Mistress  For- 
syth, whom  he,  like  the  rest,  always  called  Grannie. 
She  suffered  much  from  rheumatism,  which  she  de- 
scribed as  a  sorrow  in  her  bones^  But  she  never  lost 
her  patience,  and  so  got  the  good  of  a  trouble  which 


134  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

would  seem  specially  sent  as  the  concluding  discipline 
of  old  people  for  this  world,  that  they  may  start  well 
in  the  next.  Before  the  winter  set  in,  the  laird  had 
seen  that  she  was  provided  with  peats  —  that  much 
he  could  do,  because  it  cost  him  nothing  but  labour ; 
and  indeed  each  of  the  several  cart-loads  vCosmo 
himself  had  taken,  with  mare  Linty  between  the 
shafts.  But  no  amount  of  fire  could  keep  the  frost 
out  of  the  old  woman's  body,  or  the  sorrow  out  of 
her  bones.  Hence  she  had  to  be  a  good  deal  in  bed, 
and  needed  her  great-grandchild,  Agnes,  to  help  her 
to  bear  her  burden.  When  the  bitter  weather  came, 
soon  after  Christmas,  Agnes  had  to  be  with  her 
almost  constantly.  She  had  grown  a  little  graver, 
but  was  always  cheerful,  and,  except  for  anxiety  lest 
her  mother  should  be  overworked,  or  her  father  take 
cold,  seemed  as  happy  with  her  grandmother  as  at 
home. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  clouds  were  rising,  and 
the  wind  blew  keen  from  the  north,  Cosmo  left  Glen- 
warlock  to  go  to  the  village  —  mainly  to  see  Grannie. 
He  tramped  the  two  miles  and  a  half  in  all  the  joy  of 
youthful  conflict  with  wind  and  weather,  and  reached 
the  old  woman's  cottage  radiant.  The  snow  lay  deep 
and  powdery  with  frost,  and  the  struggle  with  space 
from  a  bad  footing  on  the  world  had  brought  the 
blood  to  his  cheeks  and  the  sparkle  to  his  eyes.  He 
found  Grannie  sitting  up  in  bed,  and  Aggie  getting 
her  tea — to  which  Cosmo  contributed  a  bottle  of 
milk  he  had  carried  her  —  an  article  rare  enough  in 
the  winter  when  there  was  so  little  grass  for  the  cows. 
Aggie  drew  the  old  woman's  chair  to  the  fire  for  him, 


grannie's  ghost  story.  135 

and  he  sat  down  and  ate  barley-meal  scons,  and 
drank  tea  with  them.  Grannie  was  a  little  better 
than  usual,  for  every  disease  has  its  inconsistencies, 
and  pain  will  abate  before  an  access ;  and  so,  with 
storm  at  hand,  threaded  with  fieiy  flying  serpents  for 
her  bones,  she  was  talking  more  than  for  days  pre- 
vious. Her  voice  came  feebly  from  the  bed  to 
Cosmo's  ears,  while  he  leaned  back  in  her  great  chair, 
and  Aggie  was  removing  the  tea-things. 

"  Did  ye  ever  dream  ony  mair  aboot  the  auld  cap- 
tain, Cosmo  ? "  she  asked :  from  her  tone  he  could 
not  tell  whether  she  spoke  seriously,  or  was  amusing 
herself  with  the  idea. 

"Noance,"he  answered.'  "What  gars  ye  speir, 
Grannie  ? " 

.  She  said  nothing  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Cosmo 
thought  she  had  dismissed  the  subject.  Aggie  had 
returned  to  her  seat,  and  he  was  talking  with  her 
about  Euclid,  when  she  began  again ;  and  this  time 
her  voice  revealed  that  she  was  quite  in  earnest. 

"  Ye're  weel  nigh  a  man  noo,  Cosmo,"  she  said. 
"  A  body  may  daur  speyk  to  ye  aboot  things  a  body 
wadna  be  wullin'  to  say  till  a  bairn  for  fearo'  frichtin' 
o'  'im  mair  nor  the  bit  hert  o'  'm  cud  stan'.  Whan  a 
lad  can  warstle  wi'  a  pair  o'  bills,  an'  get  the  upper 
han'  o'  them,  an'  gar  them  du  his  biddin',  he  wadna 
need  to  tak  fricht  at  —  "     There  she  paused. 

This  preamble  was  enough  in  itself  —  not  exactly 
to  bring  Cosmo's  heart  into  his  mouth,  but  to  send 
a  little  more  of  his  blood  from  his  brain  to  his  heart 
than  was  altogether  welcome  there.  His  imagination, 
howeve ;.  v.as  more  eager  than  apprehensive,  and  his 


136  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

desire  to  hear  far  greater  than  his  dread  of  the  pos- 
sible disclosure.  Neither  would  he  have  turned  his 
back  on  any  terror,  though  he  knew  well  enough 
what  fear  was.  He  looked  at  Aggie  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  What  can  be  coming  ?  "  and  she  stared  at  him 
in  turn  with  dilated  pupils,  as  if  something  dreadful 
were  about  to  be  evoked  by  the  threatened  narrative. 
Neither  spoke  a  word,  but  their  souls  got  into  their 
ears,  and  there  sat  listening.  The  hearing  was  likely 
to  be  frightful  when  so  prefaced  by  Grannie. 

"  There's  no  guid  ever  cam'  o'  ca'in'  things  oot  o' 
their  ain  names,"  she  began,  "  an'  it's  my  min'  'at 
gien  ever  ae  man  was  a  willain,  an'  gien  ever  ae  man 
had  rizzon  no  to  lie  quaiet  whan  he  was  doon,  that 
man  was  your  father's  uncle  —  his  gran'  uncle,  that  is, 
the  auld  captain,  as  we  ca'd  him.  Fowk  said  he  saul' 
his  sowl  to  the  ill  ane :  hoo  that  may  be,  I  wadna 
care  to  be  able  to  tell ;  but  sure  I  am  'at  his  was  a 
sowl  ill  at  ease,  —  baith  here  an'  herefter.  Them  'at 
sleepit  aneth  me,  for  there  was  twa  men-servan's  aboot 
the  hoose  that  time  —  an'  troth  there  was  need  o' 
them  an'  mair,  sic  war  the  gangin's  on !  an'  they 
sleepit  whaur  I'm  tauld  ye  sleep  noo,  Cosmo  —  them 
*at  sleepit  there  tellt  me  'at  never  a  nicht  passed  'at 
they  h'ardna  soons  'aneth  them  'at  there  was  no 
mainner  o'  accoontin'  for  nor  explainin',  as  fowks  sae 
set  upo'  duin'  nooadays  wi'  a'thing.  That  explainin' 
I  canna  bide  :  it's  jist  a  love  o'  leasin',  an'  taks  the 
bluid  oot  o'  a'thing,  lea'in'  life  as  wersh  an'  fusionless 
as  kail  wantin'  saut.  Them  'at  h'ard  it  tellt  me  'at 
there  was  no  accoontin',  as  I  tell  you,  for  the  reemish 
they  baith  h'ard  —  whiles  douf-like  dunts,  an' whiles 


grannie's  ghost  story.  137 

speech  o'  mou',  beggin'  an'  groanin'  as  gien  the  enemy 
war  bodily  present  to  the  puir  sinner." 

"  He  micht  hae  been  but  jabberin'  in's  sleep," 
Cosmo,  with  his  love  of  truth,  ventured  to  suggest : 
Aggie  gave  him  a  nudge  of  warning. 

"  Ay  micht  it,"  returned  the  old  woman  with  calm 
scorn  ;  "  an'  it  micht  nae  doobt  hae  been  snorin',  or  a 
cat  speykin'  wi'  man's  tongue,  or  ony  ane  o'  mony 
things  'cep'  the  trowth  'at  ye're  no  wuUin'  to  hear." 

"  I  am  wullin'  —  to  hear  the  warst  trowth  ye  daur 
tell  me,  Grannie,"  cried  Cosmo,  terrified  lest  he  had 
choked  the  fountain.  He  was  more  afraid  of  losing 
the  story  than  of  hearing  the  worst  tale  that  could  be 
told  even  about  the  room  he  slept  in  last  night, 'and 
must  go  back  to  sleep  in  again  to-night. 

Grannie  was  mollified,  and  went  on. 

"  As  I  was  sayin',  he  micht  weel  be  ill  at  ease,  the 
auld  captain,  gien  ae  half  was  true  'at  was  said  o'  'im ; 
but  I  'maist  think  yer  father  coontit  it  priven  'at  he  had 
led  a  deevilich  life  amo'  the  pirates.  Only,  gien  he 
did,  whaur  was  the  wauges  o'  his  ineequity?  Nae 
doobt  he  got  the  wauges  'at  the  apostle  speyks  o', 
whilk  is,  as  ye  well  ken,  deith  —  '  the  wauges  o'  sin  is 
deith.'  But,  maistly,  sic-like  sinners  get  first  wauges 
o'  anither  speckle  frae  the  maister  o'  them.  For 
troth!  he  has  no  need  to  be  near  in's  dealin's  wi' 
them,  seein'  there's  nae  buyin'  nor  sellin'  whaur  he  is, 
an"  a'  the  gowd  he  has  doon  yon'er  i'  the  booels  o'  the 
yird,  wad  jist  lie  there  duin'  naething,  gien  he  sent  na 
't  up  abune,  whaur  maist  pairt  it  works  his  wull.  Na, 
he  seldom  scrimps  't  to  them  'at  follows  his  biddin'. 
But   i'    this    case,    whaur,    I    say,  was    the    wauges  ? 


138  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Natheless,  he  aye  carriet  himsel'  like  ane  'at  cud  lay 
doon  the  law  o'  this  warl',  an  cleemt  no  sma'  consid- 
eration ;  yet  was  there  never  sign  or  mark  o"  the  proper 
fundation  for  sic  assumption  o'  the  richt  to  respec'. 

"  It  turnt  oot,  or  cam  to  be  said,  'at  the  Englishman 
at  fowk  believed  to  hae  killt  him,  was  far-awa*  sib  to 
the  faimily,  an'  the  twa  had  come  thegither  afore, 
somewhaur  i'  foreign  pairts.  But  that's  naither  here 
nor  there,  nor  what  for  he  killed  him,  or  wha's  faut 
was  that  same  :  aboot  a'  that,  naething  was  ever  kent 
for  certain. 

"  Weel,  it  was  an  awfu'  like  thing,  ye  may  be  sure, 
to  quaiet  fowk,  sic  as  we  was  a'  —  'cep'  for  the  drink- 
in'  an'  sic  like,  sin'  ever  the  auld  captain  cam,  wi'  his 
reprobat  w'ys  —  it  was  a  sair  thing,  I'm  sayin',  to  hae 
a  deid  man  a'  at  ance  upo'  oor  ban's ;  for,  lat  the  men 
du  'at  they  like,  the  warst  o'  't  aye  comes  upo'  the 
women.  (Lat  a  bairn  come  to  mischance,  or  the  guid- 
man  turn  ower  the  kettle,  an'  it's  aye,  '  Rin  for  Jean 
this,  or  Bauby  that,'  to  set  richt  what  they  hae  set 
wrang.N  Even  whan  a  man  kills  a  body,  it's  the 
women  hae  to  mak  the  best  o'  't,  an'  the  corp  luik 
dacent.  An'  there's  some  o'  them  no  that  easy  to 
mak  luik  dacent!  Troth,  there's  mony  ane  luiks 
bonnier  deid  nor  alive,  but  that  wasna  the  case  wi' 
the  auld  captain,  for  he  luikit  as  gien  he  had  dee'd 
cursin',  as  he  bude  to  du,  gien  he  dee'd  as  he  lived. 
His  moo'  was  drawn  fearfu',  as  gien  his  last  aith  had 
chokit  him.  Nae  doobt  they  said  'at  wad  hae't  they 
kent,  'at  hoo  that's  the  w'y  wi'  deith  frae  slayin'  wi' 
the  swoord ;  but  I  wadna  hear  o'  't ;  I  kenned  better. 
An'  whether  he  had  fair  play  or  no,  the  deith  he  dee'd 


grannie's  ghost  story.  139 

was  a  just  ane ;  for  them  'at  draws  the  swoord  maun 
periss  by  the  swoord.  Whan  they  faun'  'im,  the  richt 
han'  o'  the  corp  was  streekit  oot,  as  gien  he  was  cryin' 
to  somebody  rinmn'  awa'  to  bide  an'  tak  'im  wi'  'im. 
But  there  was  anither  at  han'  to  tak  'im  wi'  'im. 
Only,  gien  he  tuik  'im  that  same  nicht,  he  cudna  hae 
carried  him  far.  'Deed,  maybe,  the  auld  sinner  was 
ower  muckle  aven  for  him. 

"  They  brocht  him  hame,  an'  laid  the  corp  o'  him 
upo'  his  ain  bed,  whaiir,  I  reckon,  up  til  this  nicht,  he 
had  tried  mair  nor  he  had  sleepit.  An'  that  verra 
nicht,  wha  sud  I  see  — but  I'm  jist  gaein'  to  tell  ye  a' 
aboot  it,  an'  hoo  it  was,  an'  syne  ye  can  say  yersel's. 
Sin'  my  ain  auld  mither  dee'd,  I  haena  opent  my  moo' 
to  mortal  upo'  the  subjec'.'' 

The  eyes  of  the  two  listeners  were  fixed  upon  the  nar- 
rator in  the  acme  of  expectation.  A  real  ghost-story, 
from  the  lips  of  one  they  knew,  and  must  believe  in, 
was  a  thing  of  dread  delight.  Like  ghosts  themselves, 
they  were  all-unconscious  of  body,  rapt  in  listening. 

"  Ye  may  weel  believe,"  resumed  the  old  woman 
after  a  short  pause,  "  at  nane  o'  's  was  ower  wuUin' 
to  sit  wi'  the  corp  oor  lane,  for,  as  I  say,  he  wasna  a 
comely  corp  to  be  a  body's  lane  wi'.  Sae  auld  auntie 
Jean  an'  mysel',  we  agreed  'at  we  wad  tak  the  thing 
upo'  oorsel's,  for,  huz  twa,  we  cud  lippen  til  ane 
anither  no  to  be  ower  feart  to  min'  'at  there  was  twa 
o'  's.  There  hadna  been  time  yet  for  the  corp  to  be 
laid  intil  the  coffin,  though,  i'  the  quaiet  o'  the  mirk, 
we  thoucht,  as  we  sat,  we  cud  hear  the  tap-tappin'  as 
they  cawed  the  braiss  nails  intil't,  awa'  ower  in 
Geordie  Lumsden's  chop,  at  the  Muir  o'  Warlock,  a 


I40  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

twa  mile,  it  wad  be.  We  war  sittin',  auntie  Jean  an' 
mysel',  i'  the  mids  o'  the  room,  no  wi'  oor  backs  til 
the  bed,  nor  yet  wi'  oor  faces,  for  we  daurna  turn 
aither  o'  them  til't.  I'  the  ae  case,  wha  cud  tell  what 
we  micht  see,  an'  i'  the  ither,  wha  cud  tell  what  micht 
be  luikin'  at  hiz  !  We  war  sittin',  I  say,  wi'  oor  faces 
to  the  door  o'  the  room,  an'  auntie  was  noddin'  a  wee, 
for  she  was  turnin'  gey  an'  auld,  but  /  was  as  wide 
waukin'  an  ony  baudrins  by  a  moose-hole,  whan  sud- 
dent  there  came  a  kin'  o'  a  dirlin'  at  the  sneck,  'at 
sent  the  verra  sowl  o'  me  up  intil  the  garret  o'  my 
held ;  an'  afore  I  had  time  to  ken  hoo  sair  frichtit  I 
was,  the  door  begud  to  open ;  an',  glower  as  I  wad, 
no  believin'  my  ain  e'en,  open  that  door  did,  lang- 
some,  langsome,  quaiet,  quaiet,  jist  as  my  auld 
Grannie  used  to  tell  o'  the  deid  man  comin'  doon  the 
lum,  bit  an'  bit,  an'  jinin'  thegither  upo'  the  flure.  I 
was  turnt  to  stane,  like,  'at  I  didna  believe  I  cud  hae 
fa'en  frae  the  cheir  gien  I  had  swarfed  clean  awa'. 
An'  eh  but  it  tuik  a  time  to  open  that  door !  But  at 
last,  as  sure  as  ye  sit  there,  you  twa,  an'  no  anither, 
—  "  —  At  the  word,  Cosmo's  heart  came  swelling  up 
into  his  throat,  but  he  dared  not  look  round  to  assure 
himself  that  they  were  indeed  two  sitting  there  and 
not  another —  "  in  cam  the  auld  captain,  ae  fit  efter 
anither !  Speir  gien  I  was  sure  o'  'im  !  Didna  I  ken 
him  as  weel  as  my  ain  father  —  as  weel's  my  ain 
minister — as  weel  as  my  ain  man?  He  cam  in,  I 
say,  the  auld  captain  himsel'  —  an'  eh,  sic  an  evil 
luik  !  —  the  verra  luik  deith  —  frozen  upo'  the  face  o* 
the  corp  !  The  live  bluid  turned  to  dubs  i'  my  inside. 
He  cam  on  an'  on,  but  no  straucht  for  whaur  we  sat, 


grannie's  ghost  story.  141 

or  I  dinna  think  the  sma'  rizzon  I  had  left  wad  hae 
bidden  wi'  me,  but  as  gien  he  war  haudin'  for  's  bed. 
To  tell  God's  trowth,  for  I  daurna  lee,  for  fear  o'  hae- 
in'  to  luik  upo'  's  like  again,  my  auld  auntie  declaret 
efterhin  'at  she  saw  naething.  She  bude  til  hae  been 
asleep,  an'  a  mercifu'  thing  it  was  for  her,  puir  body ! 
but  she  didna  live  lang  efter.  He  made  straucht  for 
the  bed,  as  I  thoucht.  *  The  Lord  preserve's ! ' 
thoucht  I,  '  is  he  gaein  to  lie  doon  wi'  's  ain  corp  ? ' 
but  he  tumt  awa',  an'  roon'  the  fit  o'  the  bed  to  the 
ither  side  o'  't,  an'  I  saw  nae  mair ;  an'  for  a  while, 
auntie  Jean  sat  her  lane  wi'  the  deid,  for  I  lay  upo' 
the  flure,  an'  naither  h'ard  nor  saw.  But  whan  I 
came  to  mysel',  wasna  I  thankfu'  'at  I  wasna  deid,  for 
he  micht  hae  gotten  me  than,  an'  there  was  nae  sayin' 
what  he  micht  hae  dune  til  me !  But,  think  ye,  wad 
auntie  Jean  believe  'at  I  had  seen  him,  or  that  it  was 
onything  but  a  dream  'at  had  come  ower  me,  atween 
waukin'  an'  sleepin' !  Na,  no  she !  for  she  had 
sleepit  throu'  't  hersel' !  " 

For  some  time  silence  reigned,  as  befitted  the  close 
of  such  a  story.  Nothing  but  the  solemn  tick  of  the 
tall  clock  was  to  be  heard.  On  and  on  it  went,  as 
steady  as  before.  Ghosts  were  nothing  special  to  the 
clock  :  it  had  to  measure  out  the  time  both  for  ghosts 
and  unghosts. 

"  But  what  cud  the  ghaist  hae  been  wantin'  ?  No 
the  corp,  for  he  turnt  awa',  ye  tell  me,  frae  hit,"  Cosmo 
ventured  at  length  to  remark. 

"  Wha  can  say  what  ghaists  may  be  efter,  laddie ! 
But,  troth  to  tell,  whan  ye  see  live  fowk  sae  gien 
ower  to  the  boady,  'at  they're  never  happy  but  whan 


142  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

they're  aitin'  or  drinkin'  or  sic  like  —  an'  the  auld 
captain  was  seldom  throu'  wi'  his  glaiss,  'at  he  wasna 
cryin'  for  the  whisky  or  the  het  watter  for  the  neist  — 
whan  the  boady's  the  best  half  o'  them,  like,  an'  they 
maun  aye  be  duin'  something  wi'  't,  ye  needna  won'er 
'at  the  ghaist  o'  ane  sic  like  sud  fin'  himsel'  geyan 
eerie  an'  lonesome  like,  wantin'  his  seek  to  fill,  an' 
sae  try  to  win  back  to  hae  a  luik  hoo  it  was  weirin'." 

"  But  he  gaed  na  to  the  corp,"  Cosmo  insisted. 

"  'Cause  he  wasna  alloot,"  said  Grannie.  "  He 
wad  hae  been  intil  't  again  in  a  moment,  ye  may  be 
certain,  gien  it  had  been  in  his  pooer.  But  the 
deevils  cudna  gang  intil  the  swine  wantin'  leave." 

"  Ay,  I  see,"  said  Cosmo. 

"  But  jist  ye  speir  at  yer  new  maister,"  Grannie 
went  on,  "  what  he  thinks  aboot  it,  for  I  ance  h'ard 
him  speyk  richt  wise  words  to  my  gudeson,  James 
Gracie,  anent  sic  things.  I  min'  weel  'at  he  said  the 
only  thing  'at  made  agen  the  viouw  I  tiuk  —  though 
I  spakna  o'  the  partic'lar  occasion  —  was,  'at  naebody 
ever  h'ard  tell  o'  the  ghaist  o'  an  alderman,  wha  they 
say's  some  grit  Lon'on  man,  sair  gien  to  the  fillin'  o' 
the  seek." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   STORM-GUEST. 


Again  a  deep  silence  descended  on  the  room.  The 
twilight  had  long  fallen,  and  settled  down  into  the 
dark.  The  only  thing  that  acknowledged  and  an- 
swered the  clock  was  the  red  glow  of  the  peats  on  the 
hearth.  To  Cosmo,  as  he  sat  sunk  in  thought,  the 
clock  and  the  fire  seemed  to  be  holding  a  silent  talk. 
Presently  came  a  great  and  sudden  blast  of  wind, 
which  roused  Cosmo,  and  made  him  bethink  himself 
that  it  was  time  to  be  going  home.  And  for  this 
there  was  another  reason  besides  the  threatening 
storm :  he  had  the  night  before  begun  to  read  aloud 
one  of  Sir  Walter's  novels  to  the  assembled  family, 
and  Grizzle  would  be  getting  anxious  for  another 
portion  of  it  before  she  went  to  bed. 

"  I'm  glaid  to  see  ye  sae  muckle  better,  Grannie," 
he  said.  "  I'll  say  gude  nicht  noo,  an'  luik  in  again 
the  mom." 

"Weel,  I'm  obleeged  to  ye,"  replied  the  old 
woman.      "There's   been   but  feow  o'   yer  kin,  be 

143 


144  WARLOCK  O  6LEN WARLOCK. 

their  fau'ts  what  they  micht,  wad  forget  ony  'at  luikit 
for  a  kin'  word  or  a  kin'  deed  !  —  Aggie,  lass,  ye'U 
convoy  him  a  bittock,  wilhia  ye  ?  " 

All  the  few  in  whom  yet  lingered  any  shadow  of 
retainership  towards  the  fast-fading  chieftainship  of 
Glenwarlock,  seemed  to  cherish  the  notion  that  the 
heir  of  the  house  had  to  be  tended  and  cared  for 
like  a  child  —  that  was  what  they  were  in  the  world 
for.  Doubtless  a  pitying  sense  of  the  misfortunes 
of  the  family  had  much  to  do  with  the  feeling. 

"  There's  nae  occasion,"  and  "  I'll  du  that,"  said 
the  two  young  people  in  a  breath. 

Cosmo  rose,  and  began  to  put  on  his  plaid,  cross- 
ing it  over  back  and  chest  to  leave  his  arms  free : 
that  way  the  wind  would  get  least  hold  on  him. 
Agnes  went  to  the  closet  for  her  plaid  also  —  of  the 
same  tartan,  and  drawing  it  over  her  head  and  pin- 
ning it  under  her  chin,  was  presently  ready  for  the 
stormy  way.  Then  she  turned  to  Cosmo,  and  was 
pinning  his  plaid  together  at  the  throat,  when  the 
wind  came  with  a  sudden  howl,  rushed  down  the 
chimney,  and  drove  the  level  smoke  into  the  middle 
of  the  room.  It  could  not  shake  the  cottage  —  it 
was  too  lowly :  neither  could  it  rattle  its  windows  — 
they  were  not  made  to  open ;  but  it  bellowed  over  it 
like  a  wave  over  a  rock,  and  as  in  contempt  blew  it:! 
smoke  back  into  its  throat. 

"  It'll  be  a  wuU  nicht,  I'm  doobtin',  Cosmo,"  said 
Agnes ;  "  an'  I  wuss  ye  safe  i'  the  ingle-neak  wi'  yer 
fowk." 

Cosmo  laughed.     "The  win'  kens  me,"  he  said. 

"  Guid  farbid  !  "  cried  the  old  woman  from  the  bed. 


THE    STORM-GUEST.  1 47 

"  Kenna  ye  wha's  the  prence  o'  't,  laddie  ?  Makna 
a  jeist  o'  the  ppoers  'at  be." 

"  Gien  they  binna  ordeent  o'  God,  what  are  they 
but  a  jeist  .'* "  returned  Cosmo.  "  Eh,  but  ye  wad 
mak  a  bonny  munsie  o'  me.  Grannie,  to  hae  me  feart 
at  the  deil  an'  a' !  I  canna  a'  thegithcr  help  it  wi'  the 
ghaists,  an'  I'm  ashamed  o'  mysel'  for  that ;  but  I  am 
not  gaein  to  heed  the  deil.  I  defy  him  an'  a'  his 
works.  He's  but  a  cooerd,  ye  ken.  Grannie,  for  whan 
ye  resist  him,  he  rins." 

She  made  no  answer.  Cosmo  shook  hands  with 
her,  and  went,  followed  by  Agnes,  who  locked  the 
door  behind  her,  and  put  the  key  in  her  pocket. 

It  was  indeed  a  wild  night.  The  wind  was  rushing 
from  the  north,  full  of  sharp  stinging  pellicles,  some- 
thing betw^een  snow-flakes  and  hail-stones.  Down 
the  wide  village  street  it  came  right  in  their  faces. 
Through  it,  as  through  a  thin  shifting  sheet,  they  saw 
on  both  sides  the  flickering  lights  of  the  many  homes, 
but  before  them  lay  darkness,  and  the  moor,  a  chaos, 
a  carnival  of  wind  and  snow.  Worst  of  all  the  snow 
on  the  road  was  not  binding,  and  their  feet  felt  as  if 
walking  on  sand.  As  long  as  the  footing  is  good, 
one  can  get  on  even  in  the  face  of  a  northerly  storm ; 
but  to  heave  with  a  shifting  fulcrum  is  hard.  ^  Never- 
theless Cosmo,  beholding  with  his  mind's  eye  the 
wide  waste  around  him,  rejoiced ;  invisible  through 
the  snow,  it  was  not  the  less  a  presence,  and  his 
young  heart  rushed  to  the  contest.  There  was  no  fear 
of  ghosts  in  such  a  storm  !  The  ghosts  might  be  there, 
but  there  was  no  time  to  heed  them,  and  that  was  as 
good  as  their  absence  —  perhaps  better,  if  we  knew  all. 


148  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"Bide  a  wee,  Cosmo,"  cried  Agnes,  and  leaving 
him  in  the  middle  of  the  street  where  they  were  walk- 
ing, she  ran  across  to  one  of  the  houses,  and  entered 
—  lifting  the  latch  without  ceremony.  No  neighbour 
troubled  another  to  come  and  open  the  door ;  if  there 
was  no  one  at  home,  the  key  in  the  lock  outside 
showed  it. 

Cosmo  turned  his  back  to  the  wind,  and  stood 
waiting.  From  the  door  which  Aggie  opened,  came 
through  the  wind  and  snow  the  sound  of  the  shoe- 
maker's hammer  on  his  lapstone. 

"  Cud  ye  spare  the  mistress  for  an  hoor,  or  maybe 
twa  an'  a  half,  to  haud  Grannie  company,  John 
Nauchty  ?  "  said  Agnes. 

"Weel  that,"  answered  the  sutor,  hammering  away. 
He  intended  no  reflection  on  the  bond  that  bound  the 
mistress  and  himself. 

"  I  dinna  see  her,"  said  Aggie. 

"  She'll  be  in  in  a  minute.  She's  run  ower  the  ro'd 
to  get  a  doup  o'  a  can'le,"  returned  the  man. 

"Gien  she  dinna  the  speedier,  she'll  hae  to  licht  it 
to  fin'  her  ain  door,"  said  Agnes  merrily,  to  whom  the 
approaching  fight  with  the  elements  was  as  welcome 
as  to  Cosmo.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go  with 
him  all  the  way,  let  him  protest  as  he  might. 

"  Ow  na !  she'll  hearken,  an'  hear  the  hemmer,"  re- 
plied the  shoemaker. 

"  Weel,  tak  the  key,  an'  ye  winna  forget,  John  ?  " 
said  Aggie,  laying  the  key  amongst  his  tools. 
"Grannie's  lyin'  there  her  lee-lane,  an'  gien  the 
hoose  was  to  tak  fire,  what  wad  come  o'  her  ? " 

"  Guid  forbid  onybody  sud   forget   Grannie  !  "  re- 


THE    STORM-GUEST.  1 49 

joined  the  man  heartily ;  "  but  fire  wad  hae  a  sma' 
chance  the  nicht." 

Agnes  thanked  and  left  him.  All  the  time  he  had 
not  missed  a  single  stroke  of  his  hammer  on  the  ben- 
leather  between  it  and  his  lapstone. 

When  she  rejoined  Cosmo,  where  he  stood  leaning 
his  back  against  the  wind  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 

"  Come  nae  farther,  Aggie,"  he  said.  "  It's  an  ill 
nicht,  an'  grows  waur.  There's  nae  guid  in't  naither, 
for  we  winna  hear  ane  anither  speyk  ohn  stoppit,  an' 
turnt  oor  backs  til't.  Gang  to  yer  Grannie;  she'll 
be  feart  aboot  ye." 

"  Nae  a  bit.     I  maun  see  ye  oot  o'  the  toon." 

They  fought  their  way  along  the  street,  and  out  on 
the  open  moor,  the  greater  part  of  which  was  still 
heather  and  swamp.  Peat-bog  and  ploughed  land  was 
all  one  waste  of  snow.  Creation  seemed  but  the  snow 
that  had  fallen,  the  snow  that  was  falling,  and  the  snow 
that  had  yet  to  fall ;  or,  to  put  it  otherwise,  a  fall  of 
snow  between  two  outspread  worlds  of  snow. 

"  Gang  back,  noo,  Aggie,"  said  Cosmo  again. 
"  What's  the  guid  o'  twa  whaur  ane  only  need  be,  an' 
baith  hae  to  fecht  for  themsel's  ?  " 

"I'm  no  gaein'  back  yet,"  persisted  Aggie.  Twa's 
better  at  onything  nor  ane  himblane.  The  sutor's 
wife's  gaein'  in  to  see  Grannie,  an'  Grannie  '11  like 
her  cracks  a  heap  better  nor  mine.  She  thinks  I  hae 
nae  mair  brains  nor  a  hen,  'cause  I  canna  min'  upo' 
things  at  war  nearhan'  forgotten  or  I  was  born." 

Cosmo  desisted  from  useless  persuasion,  and  they 
struggled  on  together,  through  the  snow  above  and 
the  snow  beneath.     At  this  Aggie  was  more  than  a 


150  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

match  for  Cosmo,  Lighter  and  smaller,  and  perhaps 
with  larger  lungs  in  proportion,  she  bored  her  way 
through  the  blast  better  than  he,  and  the  moment  he 
began  to  expostulate,  would  increase  the  distance  be- 
tween them,  and  go  on  in  front  where  he  knew  she 
could  not  hear  a  word  he  said. 

At  last,  being  then  a  little  ahead,  she  turned  her 
back  to  the  wind,  and  waited  for  him  to  come  up. 

"  Noo,  ye've  had  eneuch  o'  't !  "  he  said.  "  An'  I 
maun  turn  an'  gang  back  wi'  you,  or  ye'U  never  win 
hame." 

Aggie  broke  into  a  loud  laugh  that  rang  like  music 
through  the  storm. 

"  A  likly  thing  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  an'  me  wi'  my  back 
a'  the  ro'd  to  the  win' !  Gang  back  yersel',  Cosmo, 
an'  sit  by  Grannie's  fire,  an'  I'll  gang  oh  to  the  castle, 
an'  lat  them  ken  whaur  ye  are.  Gien  ye  dinna  that, 
I  tell  ye  ance  for  a',  I'm  no  gaein'  to  lea'  ye  till  I  see 
ye  safe  inside  yer  ain  wa's." 

"  But  Aggie,"  reasoned  Cosmo,  with  yet  greater 
earnestness,  "  what'll  ye  gar  fowk  think  o'  me,  'at  wad 
hae  a  lassie  to  gang  hame  wi'  me,  for  fear  the  win' 
micht  blaw  me  intil  the  sea  ?  Ye'U  bring  me  to 
shame,  Aggie." 

"  A  lassie  !  say  ye  }  "  cried  Aggie,  —  "I  think  I 
hear  ye  !  —  an'  me  auld  eneuch  to  be  yer  mither ! 
Is'  tak  guid  care  there  s'  be  nae  affront  intil  't. 
Haud  yer  hert  quaiet,  Cosmo  ;  ye'U  hae  need  o'  a' 
yer  breath  afore  ye  win  to  yer  ain  fireside." 

As  she  spoke,  the  wind  pounced  upon  them  with  a 
fiercer  gust  than  any  that  had  preceded.  Instinctively 
they  grasped  each  other,  as  if  from  the  wish,  if  they 


THE    STORM-GUEST.  151 

should  be  blown  away,  to  be  blown  away  together. 

"  Eh,  that  's  a  rouch  ane  !  "  said  Cosmo,  and  again 
Aggie  laughed  merrily. 

While  they  stood  thus,  with  their  backs  to  the 
wind,  the  moon  rose.  Far  indeed  from  being  visible, 
she  yet  shed  a  little  glimmer  of  light  over  the  plain, 
revealing  a  world  as  wild  as  ever  the  frozen  north 
outspread  —  as  wild  as  ever  poet's  despairing  vision 
of  desolation.  I  see  it !  I  see  it !  but  how  shall  I 
make  my  reader  see  it  with  me.?  It  was  ghastly. 
The  only  similitude  of  life  was  the  perplexed  and 
multitudinous  motion  of  the  drifting,  falling  flakes. 
No  shape  was  to  be  seen,  no  sound  but  that  of  the 
wind  to  be  heard.  It  was  like  the  dream  of  a  delir- 
ious child  after  reading  the  ancient  theory  of  the 
existence  of  the  world  by  the  rushing  together  of 
fortuitous  atoms.  Wan  and  thick,  tumultuous,  in- 
numerable to  millions  of  angels,  an  interminable 
tempest  of  intermingling  and  indistinguishable  vor- 
tices, it  stretched  on  and  on,  a  boundless  hell  of  cold 
and  shapelessness  —  white  thinned  with  gray,  and 
fading  into  gray  blackness,  into  tangible  darkness. 

The  moment  the  fury  of  the  blast  abated,  Agnes 
turned,  and  without  a  word,  began  again  her  boring 
march,  forcing  her  way  through  the  palpable  obstruc- 
tions of  wind  and  snow.  Unable  to  prevent  her, 
Cosmo  followed.  But  he  comforted  himself  with  the 
thought,  that,  if  the  storm  continued  he  would  get 
his  father  to  use  his  authority  against  her  attempting 
a  return  before  the  morning.  The  sutor's  wife  was 
one  of  Grannie's  best  cronies,  and  there  was  no  fear 
of  her  being  deserted  through  the  night. 


152  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

Aggie  kept  the  lead  she  had  taken,  till  there  could 
be  no  more  question  of  going  on,  and  they  were  now 
drawing  near  the  road  that  struck  off  to  the  left, 
along  the  bank  of  the  Warlock  river,  leading  up 
among  the  vallies  and  low  hills,  most  of  which  had 
once  been  the  property  of  the  house  of  Warlock,  when 
she  stopped  suddenly,  this  time  without  turning  lier 
back  to  the  wind,  and  Cosmo  was  immediately  be- 
side her. 

"What's  yon,  Cosmo?"  she  said — and  Cosmo 
fancied  consternation  in  the  tone.  He  looked 
sharply  forward,  and  saw  what  seemed  a  glimmer,  but 
might  be  only  something  whiter  in  the  whiteness. 
No !  it  was  certainly  a  light  —  but  whether  on  the 
road  he  could  not  tell.  There  was  no  house  in  that 
direction  !  It  moved  !  —  yet  not  as  if  carried  in  hu- 
man hand  !  Now  it  was  gone  1  There  it  was  again ! 
There  were  two  of  them  —  two  huge  pale  eyes,  roll- 
ing from  side  to  side.  Grannie's  warning  about  the 
Prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,  darted  into  Cosmo's 
mind.  It  was  awful !  But  anyhow  the  devil  was  not 
to  be  run  from !  That  was  the  easiest  measure,  no 
doubt,  yet  not  the  less  the  one  impossible  to  take. 
And  now  it  was  plain  that  the  something  was  not 
away  on  the  moor,  but  on  the  road  in  front  of  them, 
and  coming  towards  them.  It  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  grew  vaguely  visible  —  a  huge  blunder- 
ing mass  —  animal  or  what,  they  could  not  tell,  but 
on  the  wind  came  sounds  that  might  be  human  —  or 
animal  human  —  the  sounds  of  encouragement  and 
incitation  to  horses.  And  now  it  approached  no  more. 
With  common  impulse  they  hastened  towards  it. 


THE    STORM-GUEST.  1 53 

It  was  a  travelling  carriage  —  a  rare  sight  in  those 
parts  at  any  time,  and  rarer  still  in  winter.  Both  of 
them  had  certainly  seen  one  before,  but  as  certainly, 
never  a  pair  of  lighted  carriage-lamps,  with  reflectors 
to  make  of  them  fiendish  eyes.  It  had  but  two  horses, 
and,  do  what  the  driver  could,  which  w^as  not  much, 
they  persisted  in  standing  stock-still,  refusing  to  take 
a  single  step  farther.  Indeed  they  could  not.  They 
had  tried  and  tried,  and  done  their  best,  but  finding 
themselves  unable  to  move  the  carriage  an  inch,  pre- 
ferred standing  still  to  spending  themselves  in  vain 
struggles,  for  all  their  eight  legs  went  slipping  about 
under  them. 

Cosmo  looked  up  to  the  box.  The  driver  was 
little  more  than  a  boy,  and  nearly  dead  with  cold. 
Already  Aggie  had  a  forefoot  of  the  near  horse  in 
her  hand.     Cosmo  ran  to  the  other. 

"  Their  feet's  fu'  o'  snaw,"  said  Aggie. 

"  Ay  ;  it's  ba'd  hard,"  said  Cosmo.  "  They  maun 
hae  come  ower  a  saft  place  :  it  wadna  ba'  the  nicht 
upo'  the  muir." 

"  Hae  ye  yer  knife,  Cosmo  ?  "  asked  Aggie. 

Here  a  head  was  put  out  of  the  carriage-window. 
It  was  that  of  a  lady  in  a  swansdown  travelling-hood. 
She  had  heard  an  unintelligible  conversation  —  and 
one  intelligible  word.  They  must  be  robbers  !  How 
else  should  they  want  a  knife  in  a  snowstorm  ?  Why 
else  should  they  have  stopped  the  carriage  ?  She 
gave  a  little  cry  of  alarm.  Aggie  dropped  the  hoof 
she  held,  and  went  to  the  window. 

"  What's  yer  wull,  mem  .? "  she  asked. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  the  lady  returned  in  a  trem- 


154  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

bling  voice,  but  not  a  little  reassured  at  the  sight,  as 
she  crossed  the  range  of  one  of  the  lamps,  of  the  face 
of  a  young  girl.     "  Why  doesn't  the  coachman  go  on  ? " 

"  He  canna,  mem.  The  horse  canna  win  throu 
the  snaw.  They  hae  ba's  o'  't  i'  their  feet,  an'  they 
canna  get  a  grip  wi'  them,  nae  mair  nor  ye  cud 
yersel',  mem,  gien  the  soles  o'  yer  shune  war  roon' 
an'  made  o'  ice.  But  we'll  sune  set  that  richt.  —  Hoo 
far  hae  ye  come,  mem,  gien  I  may  speir  ?  Aigh,  mem, 
its  an  unco  nicht !  " 

The  lady  did  not  understand  much  of  what  Aggie 
said,  for  she  was  English,  returning  from  her  first 
visit  to  Scotland,  but,  half  guessing  at  her  question, 
replied,  that  they  had  come  from  Cairntod,  and  were 
going  on  to  Howglen.  She  told  her  also,  now  en- 
tirely reassured  by  Aggie's  voice,  that  they  had  been 
much  longer  on  the  way  than  they  had  expected,  and 
were  now  getting  anxious. 

"  I  doobt  sair  gien  ye'll  win  to  Howglen  the  nicht," 
said  Aggie.  —  "  But  ye're  not  yer  lone  ?  "  she  added, 
trying  to  summon  her  English,  of  which  she  had 
plenty  of  a  sort,  though  not  always  at  hand. 

"  My  father  is  with  me,"  said  the  lady,  looking 
back  into  the  dark  carriage,  "  but  I  think  he  is  asleep, 
and  I  don't  want  to  wake  him  while  we  are  standing 
still." 

Peeping  in,  Aggie  caught  sight  of  somebody  muffled, 
leaning  back  in  the  other  corner  of  the  carriage,  and 
breathing  heavily. 

To  Aggie's  not  altogether  unaccustomed  eye,  it 
seemed  he  might  have  had  more  than  was  good  for 
him  in  the  way  of  refreshment. 


THE    STORM-GUEST.  1 55 

Cosmo  was  busy  clearing  the  snow  from  the  horses' 
hoofs.  The  driver,  stupid  or  dazed,  sat  on  the  box, 
helpless  as  a  parrot  on  a  swinging  perch. 

"  You'll  never  win  to  Howglen  to-night,  mem,"  said 
Aggie. 

"We  must  put  up  where  we  can,  then,"  answered 
the  lady. 

"  I  dinna  know  of  a  place  nearer,  fit  for  gentlefowk, 
mem." 

"  What  are  we  to  do  then .? "  asked  the  lady,  with 
subdued,  but  evident  anxiety. 

"What's  the  guid  o'  haein'  a  father  like  that  — 
sleepin'  and  snorin'  whan  maist  ye're  in  want  o' 
'im  !  "  thought  Aggie  to  herself ;  but  what  she  replied 
was,  "  Bide,  mem,  till  we  hear  what  Cosmo  has  to  say 
til't." 

"  That  is  a  peculiar  name  ! "  remarked  the  lady, 
brightening  at  the  sound  of  it,  for  it  could,  she  thought, 
hardly  belong  to  a  peasant. 

"  It's  the  name  the  lairds  o'  Glenwarlock  hae  borne 
for  generations,"  answered  Aggie ;  "  though  doobtless 
it's  no  a  name,  as  the  maister  wad  say,  indigenous  to 
the  country.  Ane  o'  them  broucht  it  frae  Italy,  the 
place  whaur  the  Pop'  o'  Rom'  bides." 

"  And  who  is  this  Cosmo  whose  advice  you  would 
have  me  ask  ?  " 

"  He's  the  yoong  laird  himsel',  mem  :  —  eh  !  but  ye 
maun  be  a  stranger  no  to  ken  the  name  o'  Warlock." 

"  Indeed  I  am  a  stranger  —  and  I  can't  help  wish- 
ing, if  there  is  much  more  of  this  weather  between  us 
and  England,  that  I  had  been  more  of  a  stranger 
still." 


156  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  'Deed,  mem,  we  hae  a  heap  o'  weather  up  here 
as  like  this  as  ae  snow-flake  is  til  anither.  But  we 
tak  what's  sent,  an'  makna  mony  remarks.  Though 
to  be  sure  the  thing's  different  whan  it's  o'  a  body's 
ain  seekin'." 

This  speech  —  my  reader  may  naturally  think  it  not 
over-polite  —  was  happily  not  over-intelligible  to  the 
lady.  Aggie,  a  little  wounded  by  the  reflection  on 
the  weather  of  her  country,  had  in  her  emotion  aggra- 
vated her  Scottish  tone. 

"  And  where  is  this  Cosmo  ?  How  are  we  to  find 
him  ? " 

"  He'll  come  onsoucht,  mem.  It's  only  'at  he's 
busy  cleanin'  oot  yer  puir  horse'  hivs  'at  hedisna  p'y 
his  respec's  to  ye.      But  he'll  be  blythe  eneuch ! " 

"  I  thought  you  said  he  was  a  lord ! "  remarked  the 
lady. 

"Na,  I  saidna  that,  mem.  He's  nae  lord.  But 
he's  a  laird,  an'  some  lairds  is  better  nor  'maist  ony 
lords  —  an'  he's  Warlock  o'  Glen  warlock  —  at  least  he 
wull  be  —  an'  may  it  be  lang  or  come  the  day." 

Hard  as  the  snow  was  packed  in  them,  all  the 
eight  hoofs  were  now  cleared  out  with  Cosmo's  busy 
knife,  which  he  had  had  to  use  carefully  lest  he 
should  hurt  the  frog.  The  next  moment  his  head  ap- 
peared, a  little  behind  that  of  Aggie,  and  in  the  light 
of  the  lamp  the  lady  saw  the  handsome  face  of  a  lad 
seemingly  about  sixteen. 

"  Here  he  is,  mem  !  This  is  the  yoong  laird.  Ye 
speir  at  him  what  ye're  to  du,  and  du  jist  as  he  tells 
ye,"  said  Aggie,  and  drew  back,  that  Cosmo  might 
take  her  place. 


THE   STORM-GUEST. 


157 


"  Is  that  girl  your  sister? "  asked  the  lady,  with  not 
a  little  abruptness,  for  the  best  bred  are  not  always  the 
most  polite. 

"  No,  my  lady,"  answered  Cosmo,  who  had  learned 
from  the  lad  on  the  box  her  name  and  rank ;  "  she  is 
the  daughter  of  one  of  my  father's  tenants." 

Lady  Joan  Scudamore  thought  it  very  odd  that  the 
youth  should  be  on  such  familiar  terms  with  the 
daughter  of  one  of  his  father's  tenants  —  out  alone 
with  her  in  the  heart  of  a  hideous  storm !  No  doubt 
the  girl  looked  up  to  him,  but  apparently  from  the 
same  level,  as  one  sharing  in  the  pride  of  the  family! 
Should  she  take  her  advice,  and  seek  his  ?  or  should 
she  press  on  for  Howglen  t  There  was,  alas !  no 
counsel  to  be  had  from  her  father  just  at  present :  if 
she  woke  him,  he  would  but  mutter  something  not  so 
much  unlike  an  oath  as  it  ought  to  be,  and  go  to  sleep 
again ! 

"  We  want  very  much  to  reach  Howglen  —  I  think 
that  is  what  you  call  the  place,"  she  said. 

"You  can't  get  there  tonight,  I'm  afraid,"  returned 
Cosmo.  "The  road  is,  as  you  see,  no  road  at  all. 
The  horses  would  do  better  if  you  took  their  shoes 
oil,  I  think  —  only  then,  if  they  came  on  a  bit  of 
frozen  dub,  it  might  knock  their  hoofs  to  pieces  in 
such  a  frost." 

The  lady  glanced  round  at  her  sleeping  companion 
with  a  look  expressive  of  no  small  perplexity. 

"  My  father  will  make  you  welcome,  my  lady,"  con- 
tinued Cosmo,  "  if  you  will  come  with  us.  We  can 
give  you  only  what  English  people  must  think  poor 
fare,  for  we're  not  —  " 


158  WARLOCK    O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

She  interrupted  him. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  sit  anjrwhere  all  night,  where 
there  was  a  fire.     I  am  nearly  frozen." 

"We  can  do  a  little  better  for  you  than  that, 
though  not  so  well  as  we  should  like.  Perhaps,  as 
we  can't  make  any  show,  we  are  the  more  likely  to  do 
our  best  for  your  comfort." 

Their  pinched  circumstances  had  at  one  time  and 
another  given  rise  to  conversation  in  which  the  laird 
and  his  son  sought  together  to  sound  the  abysses  of 
hospitality:  the  old-fashioned  sententiousness  of  the 
boy  had  in  it  nothing  of  the  prig. 

"You  are  very  kind.  I  will  promise  to  be  com- 
fortable," said  the  lady. 

She  began  to  be  a  trifle  interested  in  this  odd  speci- 
men of  the  Scotch  calf. 

"  Welcome  then  to  Glenwarlock  j  "  said  Cosmo. 
"  Come,  Aggie  ;  tak  ane  o'  them  by  the  heid  :  they're 
gaein'  wi'  's.  —  We  must  turn  the  horses'  heads,  my 
lady.  I  fear  they  won't  like  to  face  the  wind  they've 
only  had  their  backs  to  yet.  I  can't  make  out 
whether  your  driver  is  half  dead  or  half  drunk  or 
more  than  half  frozen ;  but  Aggie  and  I  will  take  care 
of  them,  and  if  he  tumble  off,  nobody  will  be  the 
worse." 

"What  a  terrible  country  !"  said  the  lady  to  herself. 
"  The  coachmen  get  drunk  !  the  boys  are  prigs  !  there 
is  no  distinction  between  the  owners  of  the  soil  and 
the  tenants  who  farm  it !  and  it  snows  from  morning 
to  night,  and  from  one  week's  end  to  another ! " 

Aggie  had  taken  the  head  of  the  near  horse,  and 
Cosmo  took  that  of  the  off  one.     Their  driver  said 


THE    STORM-GUEST.  1 59 

nothing,  letting  them  do  as  they  pleased.  With  some 
difficulty,  for  they  had  to  be  more  than  ordinarily  cau- 
tious, the  road  being  indistinguishable  from  the  ditches 
they  knew  here  bounded  it  on  both  sides,  they  got 
the  carriage  round.  But  when  the  weary  animals  re- 
ceived the  tempest  in  their  faces,  instead  of  pulling 
they  backed,  would  have  turned  again,  and  for  some 
time  were  not  to  be  induced  to  front  it.  Agnes  and 
Cosmo  had  to  employ  all  their  powers  of  persuasion, 
first  to  get  them  to  stand  still,  and  then  to  advance  a 
little.  Gradually,  by  leading,  and  patting,  and  con- 
tinuous encouraging  in  language  they  understood, 
they  were  coaxed  as  far  as  the  parish  road,  and  there 
turning  their  sides  to  the  wind,  and  no  longer  their 
eyes  and  noses,  they  began  to  move  with  a  little  will 
of  their  own  ;  for  horses  have  so  much  hope,  that  the 
mere  fact  of  having  made  a  turn  is  enough  to  revive 
them  with  the  expectation  of  cover  and  food  and  re- 
pose. They  reached  presently  a  more  sheltered  part 
of  the  road,  and  if  now  and  then  they  had  to  drag  the 
carriage  through  deeper  snow,  they  were  no  longer 
buffeted  by  the  cruel  wind  or  stung  by  its  frost- 
arrows. 

All  this  time  the  gentleman  inside  slept  —  nor  was 
it  surprising ;  for,  lunching  at  the  last  town,  and  not 
finding  the  wine  fit  to  drink,  he  had  fallen  back  upon 
an  accomplishment  of  his  youth,  and  betaken  himself 
to  toddy.  That  he  had  found  that  at  least  fit  to 
drink  was  proved  by  the  state  in  which  he  was  now 
carried  along. 

They  reached  at  last  the  steep  ascent  from  the 
parish  road  to  Castle  Warlock.     The  two  conductors, 


k60         WARLOCK  O*  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

though  they  had  no  leisure  to  confer  on  the  subject, 
were  equally  anxious  as  to  whether  the  horses  would 
face  it ;  but  the  moment  their  heads  came  round, 
whether  only  that  it  was  another  turn  with  its  fresh 
hope,  or  that  the  wind  brought  some  stray  odour  of 
hay  or  oats  to  their  wide  nostrils,  I  cannot  tell,  but 
finding  the  ground  tolerably  clear,  they  took  to  it 
with  a  will,  and  tore  up  with  the  last  efforts  of  all  but 
exhausted  strength,  Cosmo  and  Aggie  running  along 
beside  them,  and  talking  to  them  all  the  way.  The 
only  difficulty  was  to  get  the  lad  on  the  box  to  give 
them  their  heads. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE   CASTLE   INN. 

The  noise  of  their  approach,  heard  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  ascent,  within  the  lonely  winter  castle, 
awoke  profound  conjecture,  and  Grizzle  proceeded 
to  light  the  lanthern  that  she  might  learn  the  sooner 
what  catastrophe  could  cause  such  a  phenomenon : 
something  awful  must  have  taken  place  !  Perhaps 
they  had  cut  oif  the  king's  head  as  they  did  in 
France  !  But  such  was  the  rapidity  of  the  horses' 
ascent  in  the  hope  of  rest,  and  warmth,  and  supper, 
that  the  carriage  was  in  the  close,  and  rattling  up  to 
the  door,  ere  she  had  got  the  long  wick  of  the  tallow 
candle  to  acknowledge  the  dominion  of  fire.  The 
laird  rose  in  haste  from  his  arm-chair,  and  went  to 
the  door.  There  stood  the  chaise,  in  the  cloud  of 
steam  that  rose  from  the  quick-heaving  sides  of  the 
horses.  And  there  were  Cosmo  and  Agnes  at  the 
door  of  it,  assisting  somebody  to  descend.  The  laird 
was  never  in  a  hurry.  He  was  too  thorough  a  gen- 
tleman to  trouble  approach  by  uneasy  advance,  and 
i6i 


1 62  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

he  had  no  fear  of  anything  Cosmo  had  done.  He 
stood  therefore  in  the  kitchen  door,  calmly  expect- 
ant. 

A  long-cloaked  lady  got  down,  and,  turning  from 
the  assistant  hand  of  his  son,  came  towards  him  —  a 
handsome  lady,  tall  and  somewhat  stately,  but  weary, 
and  probably  in  want  of  food  as  well  as  rest.  He 
bowed  with  old-fashioned  worship,  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  welcome  her.  She  gave  him  hers  graciously, 
and  thanked  him  for  the  hospitality  his  son  had 
offered  them. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  madam,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  The  fireside  is  the  best  place  for  explanations. 
Welcome  to  a  poor  house  but  a  warm  hearth  !  So 
much  we  can  yet  offer  stranger-friends." 

He  led  the  way,  and  she  followed  him  into  the 
kitchen.  On  a  small  piece  of  carpet  before  the  fire, 
stood  the  two  chairs  of  state,  each  protected  by  a 
large  antique  screen.  From  hers  the  grandmother 
rose  with  dignified  difficulty,  when  she  perceived  the 
quality  of  the  entering  stranger. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  laird,  "  it  is  not  often  we  have 
the  pleasure  of  visitors  at  this  time  of  the  year  !  " 

"  The  more  is  the  rare  foot  welcome,"  answered 
she,  and  made  Lady  Joan  as  low  a  courtesy  as  she 
dared  :  she  could  not  quite  reckon  on  her  power  of 
recovery. 

Lady  Joan  returned  her  salute,  little  impressed 
with  the  honour  done  her,  but  recognizing  that  she 
was  in  the  presence  of  a  gentlewoman.  She  took  the 
laird's  seat  at  his  invitation,  and,  leaning  forward, 
gazed  wearily  at  the  fire. 


THE    CASTLE    INN.  1 63 

The  next  moment,  a  not  very  pleasant-looking  old 
man  entered,  supported  on  one  side  by  Cosmo  and 
on  the  other  by  Agnes.  They  had  had  no  little  dif- 
ficulty in  waking  him  up,  and  he  entered  vaguely 
supposing  they  had  arrived  at  an  inn  where  they 
were  to  spend  the  night.  If  his  grumbling  and 
swearing  as  he  advanced  was  sotto  voce,  the  assuage- 
ment was  owing  merely  to  his  not  being  sufficiently 
awake  to  use  more  vigour.  The  laird  left  the  lady 
and  advanced  to  meet  him,  but  he  took  no  notice  of 
him,  regarding  his  welcome  as  the  obsequiousness  of 
a  landlord,  and  turned  shivering  towards  the  fire, 
where  Grizzle  was  hastening  to  set  him  a  chair. 

"  The  fire's  the  best  flooer  i'  the  gairden,  an'  the 
pig's  the  best  coo  i'  the  herdin',  my  lord,"  she  said  — 
an  old  saw  to  which  his  lordship  might  have  been 
readier  to  respond,  had  he  remembered  that  the  pig 
sometimes  meant  the  stone  jar  that  held  the  whisky. 

As  soon  as  Lord  Mergwain  was  seated,  Cosmo 
drew  his  father  aside,  told  him  the  names  of  their 
guests,  and  in  what  difficulty  he  had  found  them,  and 
added  that  the  lady  and  the  horses  were  sober 
enough,  but  for  the  other  two  he  would  not  answer. 

"  We  have  been  spending  some  weeks  at  Canmore 
Castle  in  Ross-shire,  and  are  now  on  our  way  home," 
said  Lady  Joan  to  Mistress  Warlock. 

"  You  have  come  a  long  way  round,"  remarked  the 
old  lady,  not  so  pleased  with  the  manners  of  her 
male  visitor,  on  whom  she  kept  casting,  every  now 
and  then,  a  full  glance. 

"  We  have,"  replied  Lady  Joan.  "  We  turned  out 
of  our  way  to  visit  an  old  friend  of  papa's,  and  have 


164  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK 

been  storm-bound  till  he  —  I  mean  papa  —  could  bear 
it  no  longer.  We  sent  our  servants  on  this  morning. 
They  are,  I  hope,  by  this  time,  waiting  us  at  How- 
glen." 

The  fire  had  been  thawing  the  sleep  out  of  Lord 
Mergwain,  and  now  at  length  he  was  sufficiently 
awake  to  be  annoyed  that  his  daughter  should  hold 
so  much  converse  with  the  folk  of  the  inn. 

"  Can't  you  show  us  to  a  room  ?  "  he  said  gruffly, 
"  and  get  us  something  to  eat  ? " 

"  We  are  doing  the  best  we  can  for  your  lordship," 
replied  the  laird.  "  But  we  were  not  expecting  visit- 
ors, and  one  of  the  rooms  you  will  have  to  occupy, 
has  not  been  in  use  for  some  time.  In  such  weather 
as  this,  it  will  take  two  or  three  hours  of  a  good  fire  to 
render  it  fit  to  sleep  in.  But  I  will  go  myself,  and 
see  that  the  servan^i'  is  making  what  haste  she 
can." 

He  put  on  his  hat  over  his  night-cap,  and  made'  for 
the  door. 

"That's  right,  landlord,"  cried  his  lordship;  "al- 
ways see  to  the  comfort  of  your  guests  yourself  — 
But  bless  me !  you  don't  mean  we  have  to  go  out  of 
doors  to  reach  our  bedrooms  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  we  cannot  help  it,"  returned  the  laird, 
arresting  his  step.  "  There  used  to  be  a  passage  con- 
necting the  two  houses,  but  for  some  reason  or  other 
—  I  never  heard  what  —  it  was  closed  in  my  father's 
time." 

"  He  must  have  been  an  old  fool !  "  remarked  the 
visitor. 

"  My  lord  !  " 


THE    CASTLE    INN.  1 65 

"  I  said  your  father  must  have  been  an  old  fool," 
repeated  his  lordship  testily. 

"  You  speak  of  my  husband  !  "  said  Mistress  War- 
lock, drawing  herself  up  with  dignity. 

"  I  can't  help  that.  /  didn't  give  you  away.  Let's 
have  some  supper,  will  you }  I  want  a  tumbler  of 
toddy,  and  without  something  to  eat  it  might  make 
me  drunk." 

Lady  Joan  sat  silent,  with  a  look  half  of  contempt, 
half  of  mischievous  enjoyment  on  her  handsome  face. 
She  had  too  often  to  suffer  from  her  father's  rudeness 
not  to  enjoy  its  bringing  him  into  a  scrape.  But  the 
laird  was  sharper  than  she  thought  him,  and  seeing 
both  the  old  man's  condition  and  his  mistake,  hu- 
moured the  joke.  His  mother  rose,  trembling  with  in- 
dignation. He  gave  her  his  arm,  and  conducted  her 
to  a  stair  which  ascended  *  nmediately  from  the 
kitchen,  whispering  to  her  on  the  way,  that  the  man 
was  the  worse  of  drink,  and  he  must  not  quarrel  with 
him.  She  retired  without  leave-taking.  He  then 
called  Cosmo  and  Agnes,  who  were  talking  together 
in  a  low  voice  at  the  other  end  of  the  kitchen,  and 
taking  them  to  Grizzle  in  the  spare  room,  told  them 
to  help  her,  that  she  might  the  sooner  come  and  get 
the  supper  ready. 

" I  am  afraid,  my  lord,"  he  said,  returning,  "we  are 
but  poorly  provided  for  such  guests  as  your  lordship, 
but  we  will  do  what  we  can." 

"A  horrible  country  !  "  growled  his  lordship  ;  "but 
look  you,  I  don't  want  jaw  —  I  want  drink." 

"  What  drink  would  your  lordship  have  ?  If  it  be 
in  my  pov.er  —  " 


1 66         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"I  doubt,  for  all  your  talk,  if  you've  got  any- 
thing but  your  miserable  whisky  !  "  interrupted  Lord 
Mergwain. 

Now  the  laird  had  some  remnants  of  old  wine  in 
the  once  well  stored  cellar,  and,  thankless  as  his  vis- 
itor seemed  likely  to  turn  out,  his  hospitality  would 
not  allow  him  to  withhold  what  he  had. 

"  I  have  a  few  bottles  of  claret,"  he  said,  "  —  if  it 
should  not  be  over-old  !  —  I  do  not  understand  much 
about  wine  myself." 

"  Let's  have  it  up,"  cried  his  lordship.  "  We'll 
see.  If  you  don't  know  good  wine,  I  do.  I'm  old 
enough  for  any  wine." 

The  laird  would  have  had  more  confidence  in 
recommending  his  port,  which  he  had  been  told  was 
as  fine  as  any  in  Scotland,  but  he  thought  claret 
safer  for  one  in  his  lordship's  condition  —  one  who 
having  drunk  would  drink  again.  He  went  therefore 
to  the  wine  cellar,  which  had  once  been  the  dungeon 
of  the  castle,  and  brought  thence  a  most  respectable- 
looking  magnum,  dirty  as  a  burrowing  terrier,  and  to 
the  eye  of  the  imagination  hoary  with  age.  The 
eyes  of  the  toper  glistened  at  the  sight.  Eagerly  he 
stretched  out  both  hands  towards  it.  They  actually 
trembled  with  desire.  Hardly  could  he  endure  the 
delay  of  its  uncorking.  No  sooner  did  the  fine  promis- 
sory note  of  the  discharge  of  its  tompion  reach  his 
ear,  than  he  cried  out,  with  the  authority  of  a  field- 
officer  at  least : 

"  Decant  it.      Leave  the  last  glass  in  the  bottom." 

The  laird  filled  a  decanter,  and  set  it  before  him. 

"  Haven't  you  a  mangum-jug  ?  " 


THE   CASTLE    INN.  1 67 


"  No,  my  lord." 

"Then  fill  another  decanter,  and  mind  the  last 
glass." 

"  I  have  not  another  decanter,  my  lord." 

"  Not  got  two  decanters,  you  fool  ?  "  sneered  his 
lordship,  enraged  at  not  having  the  whole  bottle  set 
down  to  him  at  once.  "  But  after  all,"  he  resumed, 
"it  mayn't  be  worth  a  rush,  not  to  say  a  decanter. 
Bring  the  bottle.  Set  it  down.  Here  !  —  Carefully ! 
Bring  a  glass.  You  should  have  brought  the  glasses 
first.  Bring  three  ;  I  like  to  change  my  glass.  Make 
haste,  will  you  !  " 

The  laird  did  make  haste,  smiling  at  the  exigence 
of  his  visitor.  Lord  Mergwain  listened  to  the  glug- 
glug  in  the  long  neck  of  the  decanter  as  if  it  had 
been  a  song  of  love,  and  the  moment  it  was  over,  was 
holding  the  glass  to  his  nose. 

"  Humph  !  Not  much  aroma  here  !  "  he  growled, 
"  I  ought  to  have  made  the  old  fool "  —  the  laird 
must  have  been  some  fifteen  years  younger  than  he. 
— "  set  it  down  before  the  fire  —  only  what  would 
have  become  of  me  while  it  was  thawing  ?  It's  no 
wonder  though  !  By  the  time  I've  been  buried  as 
long,  I  shall  want  thawing  too  !  " 

The  wine,  however,  turned  out  more  satisfactory  to 
the  palate  of  the  toper  than  to  his  nostrils  —  which 
in  truth,  so  much  had  he  drunk  that  day,  were  at 
present  incapable  of  doing  it  justice  —  and  he  set 
himself  to  enjoy  it.  How  that  should  be  possible  to 
a  man  for  whom  the  accompanying  dried  olives  of 
memory  could  do  so  little,  I  find  it  difficult  to  under- 
stand.    One  would  think,  to  enjoy  his  wine   alone, 


1 68         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

a  man  must  have  either  good  memories  or  good  hopes : 
Lord  Mergwain  had  forgotten  the  taste  of  hope ;  and 
most  men  would  shrink  from  touching  the  spring  that 
would  set  a  single  scene  of  such  a  panorama  unrolling 
itself,  as  made  up  the  past  of  Lord  Mergwain.  How- 
ever there  he  sat,  and  there  he  drank,  and,  truth  to 
tell,  now  and  then  smiled  grimly. 

The  laird  set  a  pair  of  brass  candlesticks  on  the 
table  —  there  were  no  silver  utensils  any  more  in  the 
house  of  Glenwarlock ;  years  ago  the  last  of  them  had 
vanished  —  and  retired  to  a  wooden  chair  at  the  end 
of  the  hearth,  under  the  lamp  that  hung  on  the  wall. 
But  on  his  way  he  had  taken  from  a  shelf  an  old, 
much-thumbed  folio  which  Mr.  Simon  had  lent  him 
— the  journal  of  George  Fox,  and  the  panorama 
which  then  for  a  while  kept  passing  before  his  mind's 
eye,  was  not  a  little  different  from  that  passing  before 
Lord  Mergwain's.  What  a  study  to  a  spirit  able  to 
watch  the  unrolling  of  the  two  side  by  side ! 

In  a  few  minutes  Grizzle  entered,  carrying  a  fowl 
newly  killed,  its  head  almost  touching  the  ground  at 
the  end  of  its  long,  limp  neck.  She  seated  herself  on 
a  stool,  somewhere  about  the  middle  of  the  large 
space,  and  proceeded  to  pluck,  and  otherwise  prepare 
it  for  the  fire.  Having,  last  of  all,  split  it  open  from 
end  to  end,  turning  it  into  something  like  an  illegible 
heraldic  crest,  she  approached  the  fire,  the  fowl  in 
one  hand,  the  gridiron  in  the  other. 

"  I  doobt  I  maun  get  his  lordship  to  sit  a  wee  back 
frae  the  fire,"  she  said.  "I  maun  jist  bran'er  this 
chuckle  for  his  supper." 

Lady  Joan  had  taken  Mrs.  Warlock's  chair,  and 


THE    CASTLE    INN.  169 


her  father  had  taken  the  laird's,  and  pulled  it  right 
in  front  of  the  fire,  where  a  small  deal  table  supported 
his  bottle,  his  decanter,  and  his  three  glasses. 

"  What  does  the  woman  mean  ? "  said  his  lordship. 
"  —  Oh!  I  see;  a  spread-eagle!  —  But  is  my  room 
not  ready  yet  ?  Or  haven't  you  one  to  sit  in  ?  I  don't 
relish  feasting  my  nose  so  much  in  advance  of  my 
other  senses." 

"Ow!  nae  fear  o'  yer  lordship's  nose,  'cep'  it  be 
frae  yer  lordship's  hose,  my  lord  !  "  said  Grizzle,  "for 
I  doobt  ye're  birstlin'  yer  lordship's  shins  I  I'll 
tak  the  cratur  oot  to  the  cairt-shed,  an'  sing'  't  there 
first.  But  'deed  I  wadna  advise  ye  to  gang  to  yer 
room  a  minute  afore  ye  need,  for  it  winna  be  that 
warm  the  nicht.  I  hae  made  a  fire  'at's  baith  big  an' 
bricht,  an'  fit  to  ro'st  Belzebub  —  an'  I  beg  your  par- 
don, laird  —  but  it's  some  days  —  I  micht  say  ooks  — 
sin'  there  was  a  fire  intil  't,  an'  the  place  needs  time 
to  tak  the  heat  intil  its  auld  neuks." 

She  might  have  said  years  not  a  few,  instead  of 
some  weeks,  but  her  truthfulness  did  not  drive  her  so 
far.  She  turned,  and  left  the  house,  carrying  with 
her  the  fowl  to  singe. 

"  Here,"  said  his  lordship  to  his  host,  "  move  back 
this  table  and  chair  a  bit,  will  you  ?  I  don't  relish 
having  the  old  witch  fussing  about  my  knees.  What 
a  mistake  it  is  not  to  have  rooms  ready  for  whoever 
may  come  !  " 

The  laird  rose,  laid  his  book  down,  and  moved  the 
table,  then  helped  his  guest  to  rise,  moved  his  chair, 
and  placed  the  screen  again  betwixt  him  and  the 
door.     Lord  Mergwain  re-settled  himself  to  his  bottle. 


lyo  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

In  the  meantime,  in  the  guest-chamber,  which  had 
for  so  long  entertained  neither  friend  nor  stranger, 
Cosmo  and  Aggie  were  busy  —  too  busy  to  talk  much 
—  airing  the  linen,  dusting  the  furniture,  setting 
things  tidy,  and  keeping  up  a  roaring  fire.  For  this 
purpose  the  remnants  of  an  old  broken-down  cart,  of 
which  the  axle  was  anciently  greasy,  had  been  fetched 
from  the  winter-store,  and  the  wood  and  peats  to- 
gether, with  a  shovelful  of  coal  to  give  the  composi- 
tion a  little  body,  had  made  a  glorious  glow.  But 
the  heat  had  hardly  yet  begun  to  affect  sensibly  the 
general  atmosphere  of  the  place.  It  was  a  large 
room,  the  same  size  as  the  drawing-room  immediately 
under  it,  and  still  less  familiar  to  Cosmo.  For,  if 
the  latter  filled  him  with  a  kind  of  loving  awe,  the 
former  caused  him  a  kind  of  faint  terror,  so  that,  in 
truth,  even  in  broad  daylight,  at  no  time  was  he  will- 
ing to  enter  it.  Now  and  then  he  would  open  the 
door  in  passing,  and  for  a  moment  stand  peering  in, 
with  a  stricken,  breath-bating  enjoyment  of  the  vague 
atmosphere  of  dread,  which,  issuing,  seemed  to  en- 
velope him  in  its  folds ;  but  to  go  in  was  too  much, 
and  he  neither  desired  nor  endured  even  the  looking 
in  for  more  than  a  few  seconds.  For  so  long  it  was 
to  him  like  a  page  in  a  book  of  horrors :  to  go  to  the 
other  end  of  it,  and  in  particular  to  approach  the 
heavily  curtained  bed,  was  more  than  he  cared  to  do 
without  cogent  reason.  At  the  same  time  he  rejoiced 
to  think  there  was  such  a  room  in  the  house,  and  at- 
tached to  it  an  idea  of  measure  less  value  —  almost  as 
if  it  had  a  mysterious  window  that  looked  out  upon 
the  infinite.     The  cause   of  this  feeling  was  not  to 


THE   CASTLE    INN.  1 73 


himself  traceable.  Until  old  Grannie's  story,  he  had 
heard  no  tale  concerning  it  that  he  remembered  :  he 
.  may  have  heard  hints  —  a  word  dropped  may  have 
made  its  impression,  and  roused  fancies  outlasting 
the  memory  of  their  origin  ;  for  feelings,  like  memo- 
ries of  scents  and  sounds,  remain,  when  the  related 
facts  have  vanished.  What  it  was  about  the  room 
that  scared  him,  he  could  not  tell,  but  the  scare  was 
there.  With  a  companion  like  Aggie,  however,  even 
after  hearing  Grannie's  terrible  reminiscence,  he  was 
able  to  be  in  the  room  without  experiencing  worse 
than  that  same  milder,  almost  pleasant  degree  of 
dread,  caused  by  the  mere  looking  through  the  door 
into  the  strange  brooding  silence  of  the  place.  But, 
I  must  confess,  this  applies  only  to  the  space  on  the 
side  of  the  bed  next  the  fire.  The  bed  itself  —  not 
to  mention  the  shadowy  region  beyond  it  —  on  which 
the  body  of  the  pirate  had  lain,  he  could  not  regard 
without  a  sense  of  the  awfully  gruesome  :  itself  looked 
scared  at  its  own  consciousness  of  the  fact,  and  of 
the  feeling  it  caused  in  the  beholder. 

In  the  strength  of  Aggie's  presence,  he  was  now 
able  to  take  a  survey  of  the  room  such  as  never  be- 
fore. Over  walls,  floor,  and  ceiling,  his  eyes  were 
wandering,  when  suddenly  a  question  arose  on  which 
he  desired  certainty  :  "  Is  there,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"a  door  upo'  the  ither  side  o'  the  bed  ?  "  "  Did  Gran- 
nie mak  mention  o'  sic  a  door  ?  "  he  asked  himself 
next,  and  could  not  be  certain  of  the  answer.  He 
gazed  around  him,  and  saw  no  door  other  than  that 
by  which  they  had  entered,  but  at  the  head  of  the 
bed,    on    the    other    side,    was    a    space    hidden   by 


174     •    WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

the  curtain  :  it  might  be  there  !  When  they  went  to 
put  the  sheets  on  the  bed,  he  would  learn  !  He  dared 
not  go  till  then  !  "  Dare  not !  "  he  repeated  to  him- 
self —  and  went  at  once. 

He  saw  and  trembled.  It  was  the  strangest  feel- 
ing. If  it  was  not  fear,  it  was  something  very  like  it, 
but  with  a  mixture  of  wondrous  pleasure  :  there  was 
the  door !  The  curtains  hid  Aggie,  and  for  a  moment 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  miles  alone,  and  must  rush  back 
to  the  refuge  of  her  presence.  But  he  would  not  yield 
to  the  folly  —  compelled  himself  to  walk  to  the  door. 

Whether  he  was  more  disappointed  or  relieved,  he 
could  not,  the  first  instant,  have  told  :  instead  of 
a  door,  scarcely  leaning  against  the  wall,  was  an  old 
dark  screen,  in  stamped  leather,  from  which  the 
gilding  was  long  faded.  Disappointment  and  not  re- 
lief was  then  his  only  sense. 

"  Aggie,"  he  called,  still  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
bed  —  he  called  gently,  but  trembled  at  the  sound  of 
his  own  voice  —  "  did  ye  ever  hear  —  did  Grannie 
mak  mention  o'  a  door  'at  the  auld  captain  gaed  oot 
at  ? " 

"  Whisht,  whisht !  "  cried  Aggie,  in  a  loud  hissing 
whisper,  which  seemed  to  pierce  the  marrow  of 
Cosmo's  bones,  "  I  rede  ye  say  nae  thing  aboot  that 
i'  this  chaumer.  Bide  till  we're  oot  o'  't :  I  hae  near 
dune.  Syne  we'll  steek  the  door,  an'  lat  the  fire 
work.  It  '11  hae  eneuch  adu  afore  it  mak  the  place 
warm  ;  the  cauld  intil  this  room's  no  a  coamon  ane. 
There's  something  by  ord'nar  intil  't." 

Cosmo  could  no  longer  endure  having  the  great, 
old,  hearse-like  bed  between  him  and  Aggie.     With  a 


THE    CASTLE    INN.  1 75 

shiver  in  the  ver)^  middle  of  his  body,  he  hastened  to 
the  other  side  :  there  lay  the  country  of  air,  and  fire, 
and  safe  earthly  homeliness  :  the  side  he  left  was  the 
dank  region  of  the  unknown,  whose  march-ditch  was 
the  grave. 

They  hurried  with  the  rest  of  their  work.  Aggie 
insisted  on  being  at  the  farther  side  of  the  bed  when 
they  made  it.  Not  another  word  was  spoken  between 
them,  till  they  were  safe  from  the  room,  and  had 
closed  its  door  behind  them. 

They  went  up  to  Cosmo's  room,  to  make  it  some- 
thing fitter  for  a  lady's  bower.  Opening  a  certain 
chest,  they  took-  from  it  —  stored  there  by  his 
mother,  Cosmo  loved  to  think — another  set  of 
curtains,  clean  blankets,  fine  sheets,  and  a  counter- 
pane of  silk  patchwork,  and  put  them  all  on  the  bed. 
With  these,  a  white  toilet-cover,  and  a  chair  or  two 
from  the  drawing-room,  they  so  changed  the  room 
that  Cosmo  declared  he  would  not  have  known  it. 
They  then  filled  the  grate  with  as  much  fuel  as  it 
would  hold,  and  running  fast  down  the  two  stairs, 
went  again  to  the  kitchen.  At  the  door  of  it,  how- 
ever, Aggi§  gave  her  companion  the  slip,  and  set  out 
to  go  back  to  her  grannie  at  Muir  o'  Warlock. 

Cosmo  found  the  table  spread  for  supper,  the  Eng- 
lish lord  sitting  with  his  wine  before  him,  and  the 
lady  in  his  grandmother's  chair,  leaning  back,  and 
yawning  wearily.  Lord  Mergwain  looked  muddled, 
and  his  daughter  cast  on  him  now  and  then  a  look 
that  had  in  it  more  of  annoyance  than  affection.  He 
was  not  now  a  very  pleasant  lord  to  look  on,  what- 
ever he  might  once  have  been.     He  was    red-faced 


176  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  blear-eyed,  and  his  nose,  partly  from  the  snuff 
which  he  took  in  large  quantity,  was  much  injured  in 
shape  and  colour :  a  closer  description  the  historical 
muse  declines.  His  eyes  had  once  been  blue,  but  to- 
bacco, potations,  revellings  day  and  night  —  every- 
thing but  tears,  had  washed  from  them  almost  all  the 
colour.  It  added  much  to  the  strange  unpleasantness 
of  his  appearance,  that  he  wore  a  jet-black  wig,  sa 
that  to  the  unnatural  came  the  untimely,  and  en- 
hanced the  withered.  His  mouth,  which  was  full  of 
false  teeth,  very  white,  and  ill-fitting,  had  a  cruel  ex- 
pression, and  Death  seemed  to  look  out  every  time  he 
grinned. 

As  soon  as  he  and  Lady  Joan  were  seated  at  the 
supper-table,  with  Grizzle  to  wait  upon  them,  the 
laird  and  Cosmo  left  the  kitchen,  and  went  to  the 
spare-room,  for  the  laird  judged  that,  in  the  temper 
and  mistake  her  father  was  in,  the  lady  would  be  more 
comfortable  in  their  absence. 

"Cosmo,"  he  said,  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
fire,  when  he  had  again  made  it  up,  "  I  cannot  help 
feeling  as  if  I  had  known  that  man  before.  But  I  can 
recall  no  circumstances,  and  it  may  be  a  mere  fancy. 
You  have  never  seen  him  before,  my  boy,  have  you.?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  have,  papa ;  and  I  don't  care  if  I 
never  see  him  again,"  answered  Cosmo.  "  The  lady 
is  pretty,  but  not  very  pleasant,  I  think,  though  she 
is  a  lord's  daughter." 

"  Ah,  but  such  a  lord,  Cosmo ! "  returned  his  father. 
"When  a  man  goes  on  drinking  like  that,  he  is  no 
better  than  a  cheese  under  the  spigot  of  a  wine-cask; 
he  lives  to  keep  his  body  well  soaked  —  that  it  may 


THE   CASTLE    INN.  1 77 


be  the  nicer,  or  the  nastier  for  the  worms.  Cosmo, 
my  son,  don't  you  learn  to  drown  your  soul  in  your 
body,  like  the  poor  Duke  of  Clarence  in  the  wine- 
butt.  The  material  part  of  us  ought  to  keep  growing 
gradually  thinner,  to  let  the  soul  out  when  its  time 
comes,  and  the  soul  to  keep  growing  bigger  and 
stronger  every  day,  until  it  bursts  the  body  at  length, 
as  a  growing  nut  does  its  shell;  when,  instead,  the 
body  grows  thicker  and  thicker,  lessening  the  room 
within,  it  squeezes  the  life  out  of  the  soul,  and  when 
such  a  man's  body  dies,  his  soi:l  is  found  a  shrivelled 
thing,  too  poor  to  be  a  comfort  to  iiself  or  to  anybody 
else.  Cosmo,  to  see  that  man  drink,  makes  me 
ashamed  of  my  tumbler  of  toddy.  And  now  I  think 
of  it,  I  don't  believe  it  does  me  any  good ;  and,  just 
to  make  sure  that  I  am  in  earnest,  from  this  hour  I 
will  take  no  more.  —  Then,"  he  added,  after  a  short 
pause,  "I  shall  be  pretty  sure  you  will  not  take  it." 

"Oh,  papa!"  cried  Cosmo,  "take  your  toddy  all 
the  same:  I  promise  you  —  and  a  Warlock  will  not 
break  his  word — never  to  taste  strong  drink  while  I 
live." 

"  I  should  prefer  the  word  of  a  man  to  that  of  a 
Warlock,"  said  his  father.  "4  Warlock  is  nothing 
except  he  be  a  man.  Some  Warlocks  have  been 
men." 

From  that  day,  I  may  here  mention,  the  laird  drank 
nothing  but  water,  much  to  the  pleasure  of  Peter 
Simon,  who  w^as  from  choice  a  water-drinker. 

"  What  a  howling  night  it  is,  Cosmo  !  "  he  resumed. 
*'  If  that  poor  old  drinker  had  tried  to  get  on  to  Howglen, 
he  would  have  been  frozen  to  death ;  when  the  drink 


178  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

is  out  of  the  drunkard,  he  has  nothing  to  resist  with." 

By  this  time  Lord  Mergwain  had  had  his  supper, 
and  had  begun  to  drink  again.  Grizzie  wanted  to 
get  rid  of  him,  that  she  might  "  redd  up  "  her  kitchen. 
But  he  would  not  move.  He  was  quite  comfortable 
where  he  was,  he  said,  and  though  it  was  the  kitchen  ! 
he  wouldn't  stir  a  peg  till  he  had  finished  the  magnum. 
My  lady  might  go  when  she  pleased ;  the  magnum 
was  better  company  than  the  whole  houseful ! 

Grizzie  was  on  the  point  of  losing  her  temper  with 
him  altogether,  when  the  laird  returned  to  the  kitchen. 
He  found  her  standing  before  him  with  her  two  hands 
on  her  two  hips,  and  lingered  a  moment  at  the  door 
to  hear  what  she  was  saying. 

"  Na,  na,  my  lord  ! ''  expostulated  Grizzie,  "  I  canna 
lea'  ye  here.  Yer  lordship  '11  sune  be  past  takin' 
care  o'  yersel'  —  no  'at  ye  wad  be  a  witch  at  it  this 
present !  Ye  wad  be  thinkin'  ye  was  i'  yer  bed  whan 
ye  was  i'  the  mids'  o'  the  middin',  or  pu'in'  the 
blankets  o'  the  deuk  dub  ower  yer  held  !  Lord  !  my 
lord,  yet  micht  set  the  hoose  o'  fire,  an'  burn  a',  baith 
stable  an'  byre,  an'  horses  an'  cairts,  an'  cairt-sheds, 
an'  hiz  a'  to  white  aisse  in  oor  nakit  beds ! " 

"  Hold  your  outlandish  gibberish,"  returned  his 
lordship.  "Go  and  fetch  me  some  whisky.  This 
stuff  is  too  cold  to  go  to  sleep  on  in  such  weather." 

"  Deil  a  drap  or  drap  o'  whusky,  or  oucht  else,  yer 
lordship's  hae  fra  my  han'  this  nicht  —  nae  mair  nor 
gien  ye  war  a  bairn  'at  wantit  poother  to  blaw  himseF 
up  wi'  !  Ye  hae  had  ower  muckle  a'ready,  gien  ye 
war  but  cawpable  o'  un'erstan'in',  or  failin'  that,  o' 
believin'  an  honest  wuman  'at  kens  what  state  ye  are 


THE    CASTLE    INN.  1 79 


in  better  nor  ye  du  yersel'.  —  A  bonny  lordship  !  "  she 
muttered  to  herself  as  she  turned  from  him. 

The  laird  thought  it  time  to  show  himself,  and  went 
forward.  Lord  Mergwain  had  understood  not  the 
half  of  what  Grizzle  said;  but  had  found  sufficient 
provocation  in  the  tone,  and  was  much  too  angry  for 
any  articulate  attempt  at  speech  beyond  swearing. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  laird,  "  I  think  you  will  find 
your  room  tolerably  comfortable  now :  shall  I  have 
the  pleasure  of  showing  you  the  way  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  !  I'm  not  going  to  stir.  Fetch  me  a 
bottle  of  your  whisky  —  that's  pretty  safe  to  be  good." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord,  you  shall  have  no  more  drink 
to-night,"  said  the  laird,  and  taking  the  bottle,  which 
was  nearly  empty,  carried  it  from  the  table. 

Though  nearly  past  everything  else,  his  guest  was 
not  yet  too  far  gone  to  swear  with  vigour,  and  the  vol- 
ley that  now  came  pouring  from  his  outraged  heart 
was  such,  that,  far  the  sake  of  Grizzle  and  Cosmo,  the 
laird  took  the  bottle  again  in  his  hand,  and  said,  that, 
if  his  lordship  would  drink  it  in  his  own  room,  he 
should  have  what  was  left  of  it. 

Not  too  drunk  to  see  where  his  advantage  lay, 
Lord  Mergw^ain  yielded;  the  thunder  of  impre- 
cation from  bellowing  sank  to  growling,  then  to 
muttering,  and  the  storm  gradually  subsided.  The 
laird  gave  him  one  arm,  Cosmo  another,  and  Grizzle 
came  behind,  ready  to  support  or  push,  and  so  in 
procession  they  moved  from  the  kitchen  along  the 
causeway,  his  lordship  grumbling  and  slipping, 
hauled,  carried,  and  shoved  —  through  the  great 
door,  a:;  they  called   it,  up  the  stairs,  past  the  draw- 


l8o  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ing-room,  and  into  "the  muckle  chaumer."  There  he 
was  deposited  in  an  easy  chair,  before  the  huge  fire, 
and  was  fast  asleep  in  a  moment.  Lady  Joan  had 
followed  them,  and  while  they  were  in  her  father's 
room,  had  passed  up  to  her  own,  so  that  when  they 
re-entered  the  kitchen,  there  was  nobody  there. 
With  a  sigh  of  relief  the  laird  sank  into  his  mother's 
chair.  After  a  little  while,  he  sent  Cosmo  to  bed, 
and,  rejoicing  in  the  quiet,  got  again  the  journal  of 
George  Fox,  and  began  to  read.  When  Grizzle  had 
pottered  about  for  a  while,  she  too  went  to  bed,  and 
the  laird  was  alone.    • 

When  he  had  read  about  an  hour,  he  thought  it 
time  to  see  after  his  guest,  and  went  to  his  room. 
He  found  him  still  asleep  in  his  chair  before  the  fire; 
but  he  could  not  be  left  there  through  such  a  night, 
for  the  fire  would  go  out,  and  then  a  pack  of  wolves 
would  hardly  be  worse  than  the  invading  cold.  It 
was  by  no  means  an  easy  task  to  rouse  him,  however, 
and  indeed  remained  in  large  measure  unaccom- 
plished—so far  so,  that,  after  with  much  labour  and 
contrivance  relieving  him  of  his  coat  and  boots,  the 
laird  had  to  satisfy  his  hospitality  with  getting  him 
into  bed  in  the  remainder  of  his  clothes.  He  then 
heaped  fresh  fuel  on  the  fire,  put  out  the  candles,  and 
left  him  to  what  repose  there  might  be  for  him.  Re- 
turning to  his  chair  and  his  book,  the  laird  read  for 
another  hour,  and  then  went  to  bed.  His  room  was 
in  the  same  block,  above  that  of  his  mother. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THAT    NIGHT. 


Cosmo's  temporary  quarters  were  in  one  of  two  or 
three  chambers  above  his  own,  formerly  occupied  by 
domestics,  when  there  were  many  more  of  them 
about  the  place.  He  went  to  bed,  but,  after  about  three 
hours,  woke  very  cold — so  cold  that  he  could  not  go 
to  sleep  again.  He  got  up,  heaped  on  his  bed  every- 
thing protective  he  could  find,  and  tried  again.  But 
it  was  of  no  avail.  Cosmo  could  keep  himself  warm 
enough  in  the  open  air,  or  if  he  could  not,  he  did  not 
mind ;  but  to  be  cold  in  bed  was  more  than  he  would 
willingly  endure.  He  got  up  again  —  with  an  idea. 
Why  should  he  not  amuse  himself,  rather  than  lie 
shivering  on  couch  inhospitable }  When  anything 
disturbed  him  of  a  summer  night,  as  a  matter  of 
course  he  got  up  and  went  out;  and  although  natu- 
rally he  was  less  inclined  on  such  a  night  as  this, 
when  the  rooks  would  be  tumbling  dead  from  the 
boughs  of  the  fir-trees,  he  yet  would,  rather  than  lie 
sleepless  with  cold. 

i8i 


l82  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  court,  in  a  gap  between 
the  stable  and  the  byre,  the  men  had  heaped  up  the 
snow  from  the  rest  of  the  yard,  and  in  the  heap 
Cosmo  had  been  excavating.  For  snow-balKng  he 
had  little  inclination,  but  the  snow  as  a  plastic  sub- 
stance, a  thing  that  could  be  compelled  into  shapes, 
was  an  endless  delight  to  him,  and  in  connection  with 
this  mound  he  had  conceived  a  new  fancy,  which,  this 
very  night,  but  for  the  interruption  of  their  visitors, 
he  would  already  have  put  to  the  test. 

Into  the  middle  of  the  mound  he  had  bored  a  tun- 
nel, and  then  hollowed  out  what  I  may  call  a  negative 
human  shape  —  the  mould,  as  it  were,  of  a  man,  of 
life-size,  with  his  arms  thrown  out,  and  his  feet 
stretched  straight,  like  one  that  had  fallen,  and  lay 
in  weariness.  His  object  was  to  illuminate  it,  in  the 
hope  of  "  a  man  all  light,  a  seraph  man,"  shin- 
ing through  the  snow.  That  very  night  he  had  in- 
tended, on  his  return  from  Muir  of  Warlock,  to  light 
him  up  ;  and  now  that  he  was  driven  out  by  the  cold, 
he  would  brave,  in  his  own  den,  in  the  heart  of  the 
snow,  the  enemy  that  had  roused  him,  and  make  his 
experiment. 

He  dressed  himself,  crept  softly  out,  and,  for  a 
preparation,  would  have  a  good  run.  He  trotted 
down  the  hill,  beating  his  feet  hard,  until  he  reached 
the  more  level  road,  where  he  set  out  at  full  speed, 
and  soon  was  warm  as  any  boy  need  care  to  be. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  laird 
woke  suddenly,  without  knowing  why.  But  he  was 
not  long  without  knowing  why  he  should  not  go  to 
sleep  again.     From  a  distance,  as  it  seemed,  through 


THAT    NIGHT.  1 83 


the  stillness  of  the  night,  in  rapid  succession,  came 
three  distinct  shrieks,  one  close  on  the  other,  as  from 
the  throat  of  a  human  being  in  mortal  terror.  Never 
had  such  shrieks  invaded  his  ears.  Whether  or  not 
they  came  from  some  part  of  his  own  house,  he  could 
not  tell.  He  sprung  upon  the  floor,  thinking  first  of 
his  boy,  and  next  of  the  old  man  whom  he  had  left 
drunk  in  his  bed,  and  dressed  as  fast  as  he  could,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  a  fresh  assault  of  horrible 
sound.  But  all  he  heard  was  the  hasty  running  of 
far  off  feet.  He  hurried  down,  passing  carefully  his 
mother's  door,  but  listening  as  he  passed,  in  the  hope 
of  finding  she  had  not  been  disturbed.  He  heard 
nothing,  and  went  on.     But  in  truth  the  old  lady  lay 


trembling,  too  terrified  to  move  or  utter  a  sound. 
In  the  next  room  he  heard  Grizzle  moving,  as  if,  like 
himself,  getting  up  with  all  speed.  Down  to  the 
kitchen  he  ran,  in  haste  to  get  out  and  reach  the  great 
door.  But  when  he  opened  the  kitchen  door,  a  strange 
sight  met  his  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  arrested  him. 

The  night  was  dark  as  pitch,  for,  though  the  snow 
had  ceased  to  fall,  great  clouds  of  it  yet  filled  the 
vault  of  the  sky,  and  behind  them  was  no  moon  from 
which  any  smallest  glimmer  might  come  soaking 
through.  But,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  court, 
the  heap  of  snow  familiar  to  his  eyes  was  shin- 
ing with  an  unknown,  a  faint,  phosphorescent  ra- 
diance. The  whole  heap  was  illuminated,  and  was 
plainly  visible  :  but  the  strangest  thing  was,  that  the 
core  of  the  light  had  a  vague  shadowy  resemblance  — 
if  one  may  use  the  word  of  a  shape  of  light —  to  the 
form    of    a   man.     There   were    the   body   and    out- 


184  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Stretched  limbs  of  one  who  had  cast  himself  supine 
in  sorest  weariness,  ready  for  the  grave  which  had 
found  him.  The  vision  flickered,  and  faded  and  re- 
vived, and  faded  again,  while,  in  his  wonder  forget- 
ting for  one  brief  moment  the  cries  that  had  roused 
him,  the  laird  stood  and  gazed.  It  was  the  strangest, 
ghostliest  thing  he  had  ever  seen !  Surely  he  was  on 
the  point  of  discovering  some  phenomenon  hitherto 
unknown !  What  Grizzle  would  have  taken  it  for, 
unhappily  we  do  not  know,  for,  just  as  the  laird 
heard  her  footsteps  on  the  stair,  and  he  was  himself 
starting  to  cross  the  frozen  space  between,  the  light, 
which  had  been  gradually  paling,  suddenly  went  out. 
With  its  disappearance  he  bethought  himself,  and 
hurried  towards  the  great  door,  with  Grizzle  now  at 
his  heels. 

He  opened  it.  All  was  still.  Feeling  his  way  in 
the  thick  darkness,  he  went  softly  up  the  stair. 

Cosmo  had  but  just  left  the  last  remnants  of  his 
candle-ends  burning,  and  climbed  glowing  to  his 
room,  delighted  with  the  success  of  his  experiment, 
when  those  quick-following,  hideous  sounds  rent  the 
night,  like  flashes  from  some  cloud  of  hellish  torture. 
His  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  Without  knowing 
why,  involuntarily  he  associated  them  with  what  he 
had  been  last  about,  and  for  a  moment  felt  like  a 
murderer.  The  next  he  caught  up  his  light,  and 
nished  from  the  room,  to  seek,  like  his  father,  that  of 
their  guest. 

As  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the  first  stair,  the 
door  of  his  own  room  opened,  and  out  came  Lady 
Joan,  with  a  cloak  thrown  over  her  night-gown,  and 


THAT    NIGHT.  185 


looking  like  marble,  with  wide  eyes.  But  Cosmo  felt 
it  was  not  she  who  had  shrieked,  and  passing  her  with- 
out a  second  look,  led  the  way  down,  and  she  followed. 

When  the  laird  opened  the  door  of  the  guest- 
chamber,  there  was  his  boy  in  his  clothes,  with  a 
candle  in  his  hand,  and  the  lady  in  her  night-gown, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  looking  down 
with  dismayed  countenances.  There  lay  Lord  Mer- 
gwain  !  —  or  was  it  but  a  thing  of  nought  —  the  de- 
serted house  of  a  living  soul  ?  The  face  was  drawn 
a  little  to  one  side,  and  had  a  mingled  expression,  of 
horror  —  which  came  from  within,  and  of  ludicrous- 
ness,  which  had  an  outside  formal  cause.  Upon 
closer  investigation,  the  laird  almost  concluded  he 
was  dead  ;  but  on  the  merest  chance  something  must 
be  done.  Cosmo  seemed  dazed,  and  Lady  Joan 
stood  staring  with  lost  look,  more  of  fright  than  of 
sorrow,  but  there  was  Grizzle,  peeping  through  be- 
tween them,  with  bright  searching  eyes !  On  her 
countenance  was  neither  dismay,  anxiety,  nor  distrac- 
tion. She  nodded  her  head  now  and  then  as  she 
gazed,  looking  as  if  she  had  expected  it  all,  and  here 
it  was. 

"Rin  an'  fess  het  watter  as  fest's  ye  can.  Grizzle," 
said  the  laird.  "  My  dear  Lady  Joan,  go  and  dress, 
or  you  will  be  frozen  to  death.  We  will  do  all  we 
can.  Cosmo,  get  the  fire  up  as  quickly  as  possible — 
it  is  not  quite  out.  But  first  you  and  I  must  get  him 
into  bed,  and  cover  him  up  warm,  and  I  will  rub  his 
hands  and  feet  till  the  hot  water  comes." 

As  the  laird  said,  everyone  did.  A  pail  of  hot 
water  was  soon  brought,  the  fire  was  soon  lighted,  and 


l86  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

the  lady  soon  returned  more  warmly  clad.  He  made 
Grizzle  put  the  pail  on'  a  chair  by  the  bed-side,  and 
they  got  his  feet  in  without  raising  him,  or  taking  him 
out  of  the  blankets.  Before  long  he  gave  a  deep  sigh, 
and  presently  showed  other  signs  of  revival.  When 
at  length  he  opened  his  eyes,  he  stared  around  him 
wildly,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  all  of  them  he 
had  lost  his  reason.  But  the  laird  said  he  might  not 
yet  have  got  over  the  drink  he  had  taken,  and  if  he 
could  be  got  to  sleep,  he  would  probably  wake  better. 
They  therefore  removed  some  more  of  his  clothes, 
laid  him  down  again,  and  made  him  as  comfortable 
as  they  could,  with  hot  bottles  about  him.  The  laird 
said  he  would  sit  with  him,  and  call  Lady  Joan  if 
needful.  To  judge  by  her  behaviour,  he  conjectured 
such  a  catastrophe  was  not  altogether  strange  to  her. 
She  went  away  readily,  more  like  one  relieved  than 
anxious. 

But  there  had  arisen  in  the  mind  of  the  laird  a 
fear:  might  not  Cosmo  unwittingly  have  had  some 
share  in  the  frightful  event  ?  When  first  he  entered 
the  room,  there  was  Cosmo,  dressed,  and  with  a  light 
in  his  hand:  the  seeming  phosphorescence  in  the 
snow  must  have  been  one  of  his  ploys^  and  might  not 
that  have  been  the  source  of  the  shock  to  the  dazed 
brain  of  the  drinker? 

His  lordship  was  breathing  more  softly  and  regu- 
larly, though  every  now  and  then  half  waking  with  a 
cry  —  a  dreadful  thing  to  hear  from  a  sleeping  old 
man.  They  drew  their  chairs  close  to  the  fire  and  to 
each  other,  and  Cosmo,  as  was  usual  with  him,  laid 
his  hand  on  his  father's  knee. 


THAT    NIGHT.  187 


"  Did  you  observe  that  peculiar  appearance  in  the 
snow-heap,  on  the  other  side  of  the  court,  Cosmo  ? " 
asked  the  laird. 

"  Yes,  papa,"  replied  the  boy :  "  I  made  it  myself." 
And  therewith  he  told  him  all  about  it.  "  You're  not 
vexed  with  me,  are  you,  papa  ? "  he  added,  seeing  the 
laird  look  grave. 

"  No,  my  son,"  answered  his  father ;  "  I  am  only 
uneasy  lest  that  should  have  had  anything  to  do 
with  this  sad  affair." 

"  How  could  that  be,  papa  ?  "  asked  Cosmo. 

"  He  may  have  looked  out  of  the  window  and  seen 
it,  and,  in  the  half-foolish  state  he  was  in,  taken  it  for 
something  supernatural." 

"  But  why  should  that  have  done  him  any  harm  ?  " 

"It  may  have  terrified  him." 

"  Why  should  it  terrify  him  ?  "  said  Cosmo. 

"There  may  be  things  we  know  'nothing  of,"  re- 
plied his  father,  "  to  answer  that  question.  I  cannot 
help  feeling  rather  uneasy  about  it." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  frightful  about  my  man  of 
light,  papa  ? "  inquired  Cosmo. 

"  No,"  answered  his  father,  thoughtfully ;  "  but  the 
thing,  you  see,  was  in  the  shape  of  a  man  —  a  man 
lying  at  full  length  as  if  he  were  dead,  and  indeed  in 
his  grave :  he  might  take  it  for  his  wraith  —  an 
omen  of  his  coming  end." 

"But  he  is  an  Englishman,  papa,  and  the  English 
don't  believe  in  the  second  sight." 

"  That  does  make  it  less  likely.  —  Few  lowlanders 
do." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  it,  papa  ? " 


l88  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  returned  the  laird,  with  a  small 
smile,  "  I,  like  yourself,  am  neither  pure  highlander 
nor  pure  lowlander,  and  the  natural  consequence  is, 
I  am  not  very  sure  whether  I  believe  in  it  or  not.  I 
have  heard  stories  difficult  to  explain." 

"  Still,"  said  Cosmo,  "  my  lord  would  be  more  to 
blame  than  me,  for  no  man  with  a  good  conscience 
would  have  been  so  frightened  as  that,  even  if  it  had 
been  his  wraith." 

"  That  may  be  true ;  —  still,  a  man  cannot  help 
being  especially  sorry  anything  should  happen  to  a 
stranger  in  his  house.  You  and  I,  Cosmo,  would 
have  our  house .  a  place  of  refuge.  —  But  you  had 
better  go  to  bed  now.  There  is  no  reason  in  tiring 
two  people,  when  one  is  enough." 

"  But,  papa,  I  got  up  because  I  was  so  cold  I 
could  not  sleep.  If  you  will  let  me,  I  would  much 
rather  sit  with  you.  I  shall  be  much  more  comfort- 
able here." 

That  his  son  should  have  been  cold  in  the  night 
distressed  the  laird.  He  felt  as  if,  for  the  sake  of 
strangers,  he  had  neglected  his  own  —  the  specially 
sent.  He  would  have  persuaded  Cosmo  to  go  to  his 
father's  bed,  which  was  in  a  warmer  room,  but  the 
boy  begged  so  to  be  allowed  to  remain  that  he 
yielded. 

They  had  talked  in  a  low  voice  for  fear  of  dis- 
turbing the  sleeper,  and  now  were  silent.  Cosmo 
rolled  himself  in  his  plaid,  lay  down  at  his  father's 
feet,  and  was  soon  fast  asleep  :  with  his  father  there, 
the  chamber  had  lost  all  its  terrors,  and  was  just  like 
any  other  home-feeling  room  of  the  house.     Many  a 


THAT    NIGHT. 


189 


time  in  after  years  did  that  night,  that  room,  that 
fire,  and  the  feehng  of  his  father  over  his  head,  while 
the  bad  lord  lay  snoring  within  the  dark  curtains, 
rise  before  him  ;  and  from  the  memory  he  would  try 
to  teach  himself,  that,  if  he  were  towards  his  great 
Father  in  his  house  as  he  was  then  towards  his 
earthly  father  in  his,    he  would  never  fear  anything. 

To  know  one's-self  as  safe  amid  storm  and  darkness, 
amid  fire  and  water,  amid  disease  and  pain,  even 
during  the  felt  approach  of  death,  is  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian, for  that  is  how  the  Master  felt  in  the  hour  of 
darkness,  because  he  knew  it  a  fact. 

All  night  long,  at  intervals,  the  old  man  moaned, 
and  every  now  and  then  would  mutter  sentences 
unintelligible  to  the  laird,  but  sown  with  ugly,  some- 
times fearful  words.  In  the  gray  of  the  morning  he 
woke. 

"  Bring  me  brandy,"  he  cried  in  a  voice  of  dis- 
content. 

The  laird  rose  and  went  to  him.  When  he  saw 
the  face  above  him,  a  horror  came  upon  his  —  a  look 
like  that  they  found  frozen  on  it. 

"  Who  are  you  .?  "  he  gasped.     "  Where  am  I  ? " 

"  You  came  here  in  the  storm  last  night,  my  lord," 
said  the  laird. 

"  Cursed  place  !  I  never  had  such  horrible  dreams 
in  my  life.  Where  am  I  —  do  you  hear.?  Why 
don't  you  answer  me  ?  " 

"You  are  at  Castle  Warlock,  my  lord,"  replied  the 
laird. 

At  this  he  shrieked,  and,  throwing  off  the  clothes, 
sprung  from  the  bed. 


190  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

"  I  entreat  you,  my  lord,  to  lie  down  again.  You 
were  very  ill  in  the  night,"  expostulated  the  laird. 

"  I  don't  stop  another  hour  in  the  blasted  hole ! " 
roared  his  guest,  in  a  fierce  quaver.  Out  of  my  way 
you  fool !  Where's  Joan  ?  Tell  her  to  get  up  and 
come  directly.  I'm  off,  tell  her.  I'd  as  soon  go 
to  bed  in  the  drifts,  as  stop  another  hour  in  this, 
abominable    old    lime-kiln. 

The  laird  let  him  rave  on  :  it  was  useless  to  oppose 
him.  He  flew  at  his  clothes  to  dress  himself,  but 
his  poor  old  hands  trembled  with  rage,  fear,  drink, 
and  eagerness.  The  laird  did  his  best  to  help  him, 
but  he  seemed  nowise  recognizant. 

"  I  will  get  you  some  hot  water,  my  lord,"  he  said 
at  length,  and  was  moving  towards  the  door. 

"No,  — you!  — everybody!"  shrieked  the  old 
man.  "  If  you  go  out  of  that  door,  I  will  throw 
myself  out  of  this  window." 

The  laird  turned  at  once,  and  in  silence  waited  on 
him  like  a  servant.  "  He  must  be  in  a  fit  of  delirium 
tremens  ! "  he  said  to  himself.  He  poured  him  out 
some  cold  water,  but  he  would  not  use  it.  He  would, 
neither  eat  nor  drink  nor  wash  till  he  was  out  of  the 
horrible  dungeon,  he  said.  The  next  moment  he 
cried  for  water,  drank  three  mouthfuls  eagerly,  threw 
the  tumbler  from  him,  and  broke  it  on  the  hearth. 

The  instant  he  was  dressed,  he  dropped  into  the 
great  chair  and  closed  his  eyes. 

"  Your  lordship  must  allow  me  to  fetch  some 
fuel,"  said  the  laird  ;  "  the  room  is  growing  cold." 

"  No,  I  tell  you  ! "  cried  Lord  Mergwain,  opening 
his  eyes  and  sitting  up.     "  When  I'm  cold  I'll  go  to 


THAT    NIGHT. 


— .  If  you  attempt  to  leave  the  room,  I'll  send  a 
bullet  after  you.  —  God  have  mercy!  what's  that  at' 
my  feet  ? " 

"  It  is  only  my  son,"  replied  the  laird  gently.  "We 
have  been  with  you  all  night  —  sinee  you  were  taken 
ill,  that  is." 

"  When  was  that }  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  '* 
he  said,  looking  up  sharply,  with  a  face  of  more  intel- 
ligence than  he  had  yet  shown. 

"  Your  lordship  had  some  sort  of  fit  in  the  night,  and 
if  you  do  not  compose  yourself,  I  dread  a  return  of  it." 

"You  well  may,  if  I  stop  here,"  he  returned — 
then,  after  a  pause,  "  Did  I  talk  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  lord  —  a  good  deal." 

"  What  did  I  say .?  " 

"  Nothing  I  could  understand,  my  lord." 

"  And  you  did  your  best,  I  don't  doubt !  "  rejoined 
his  lordship  with  a  sneer.  "  But  you  know  nothing 
is  to  be  made  of  what  a  man  says  in  a  fit." 

"  I  have  told  your  lordship  I  heard  nothing." 

"No  matter;  I  don't  sleep  another  night  under 
your  roof." 

"That  will  be  as  it  may,  my  lord." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Look  at  the  weather,  my  lord.  —  Cosmo  ! " 

The  boy  was  still  asleep,  but  at  the  sound  of  his 
name  from  his  father's  lips,  he  started  at  once  to  his 
feet. 

"Go  and  wake  Grizzle,"  said  the  laird,  "and  tell 
her  to  get  breakfast  ready  as  fast  as  she  can.  Then 
bring  some  peat  for  the  fire,  and  some  hot  water  for 
his  lordship.' 


192  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

Cosmo  ran  to  obey.  Grizzle  had  been  up  for  more 
than  an  hour,  and  was  going  about  with  the  look  of 
one  absorbed  in  a  tale  of  magic  and  devilry.  Her 
mouth  was  pursed  up  close,  as  if  worlds  should  not 
make  her  speak,  but  her  eyes  were  wide  and  flashing, 
and  now  and  then  she  would  nod  her  head,  as  for 
the  Q.  E.  D.  to  some  unheard  argument.  What- 
ever Cosmo  required,  she  attended  to  at  once,  but 
not  one  solitary  word  did  she  utter. 

He  went  back  with  the  fuel,  and  they  made  up  the 
fire.  Lord  Mergwain  was  again  lying  back  ex- 
hausted in  his  chair,  with  his  eyes  closed. 

"Why  don't  you  give  me  my  brandy — do  you 
hear?"  all  at  once  he  cried.  "  —  Oh,  I  thought 
it  was  my  own  rascal !    Get  me  some  brandy,  will  you } " 

"There 'is  none  in  the  house,  my  lord,"  said  his  host. 

"  What  a  miserable  sort  of  public  to  keep  !  No 
brandy!" 

"  My  lord,  you  are  at  Castle  Warlock  —  not  so 
good  a  place  for  your  lordship's  needs.". 

"  Oh,  that's  it,  yes  !  I  remember  !  I  knew  your 
father,  or  your  grandfather,  or  your  grandson,  or 
somebody  —  the  more's  my  curse  !  Out  of  this  I 
must  be  gone,  and  that  at  once  !  Tell  them  to  put  the 
horses  to.  Little  I  thought  when  I  left  Cairntod 
where  I  was  going  to  find  myself  !  I  would  rather  be 
in  —  and  have  done  with  it!  Lord!  Lord!  to 
think  of  a  trifle  like  that  not  being  forgotten  yet  I 
Are  there  no  doors  out  ?  Give  me  brandy,  I  say. 
There's  some'in  my  pocket  somewhere.  Look  you ! 
I  don't  know  what  coat  I  had  on  yesterday  !  or  where 
it  is! 


THAT    NIGHT. 


'93 


He  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair.  The  laird  set 
about  looking  if  he  had  brought  the  brandy  of  which 
he  spoke:  it  might  be  well  to  let  him  have  some. 
Not  finding  it,  he  would  have  gone  to  search  the  outer 
garments  his  lordship  had  put  oif  in  the  kitchen ;  but 
he  burst  out  afresh : 

"I  tell  you — and  confound  you,  I  say  that 
you  have  to  be  told  twice  —  I  will  not  be  left  alone 
with  that  child  !  He's  as  good  as  nobody !  What 
could  he  do  if  —  "  Here  he  left  the  sentence  unfin- 
ished. 

"Very  well,  my  lord,"  responded  the  laird,  "I  will 
not  leave  you.  Cosmo  shall  go  and  look  for  the 
brandy-flask  in  your  lordship's  greatcoat." 

"Yes,  yes,  good  boy!  you  go  and  look  for  it. 
You're  all  Cosmos,  are  you?  Will  the  line  never 
come  to  an  end  !  A  cursed  line  for  me — if  it  shouldn't 
be  a  rope-line  !  But  I  had  the  best  of  the  game  after 
all !  —  though  I  did  lose  my  two  rings.  Confounded 
old  cheating  son  of  a  porpus  !  It  was  doing  the  world 
a  good  turn,  and  Glenwarlock  a  better  to  —  Look 
you  !  what  are  you  listening  there  for !  —  Ha  !  ha ! 
ha  !  I  say,  now  —  would  you  hang  a  man,  laird  —  I 
mean,  when  you  could  get  no  good  out  of  it  —  not  a 
ha'p'orth  for  yourself  or  your  family  1 " 

"  I've  never  had  occasion  to  consider  the  question," 
answered  the  laird. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  haven't  you  t  Let  me  tell  you  it's  quite 
time  you  considered  it.  It's  no  joke  when  a  man  has 
to  decide  without  time  to  think.  He's  pretty  sure  to 
decide  wrong." 

"That  depends,  I   should   think,  my  lord,  on  the 


.  194  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

way  in  which  he  has  been  in  the  habit  of  deciding." 
"  Come  now  !  none  of  your  Scotch  sermons  to  me ! 
You  Scotch  always  were  a  set  a  down-brown  hypo- 
crites !     Confound  the  whole  nation  !  " 

"  To  judge  by  your  last  speech,  my  lord,  —  " 
"  Oh,  by  my  last  speech,  eh  ?  -  By  my  dying  declara- 
tion? Then  I  tell  you  'tis  fairer  to  judge  a  man  by 
anything  sooner  than  his  speech.  That  only  serves 
to  hide  what  he's  thinking.  I  wish  I  might  be  judged 
by  mine,  though,  and  not  by  my  deeds.  I've  done 
a  good  many  things  in  my  time  I  would  rather 
forget,  now  age  has  clawed  me  in  his  clutch.  So 
have  you ;  so  has  everybody,  I  don't  see  why  I 
should  fare  worse  than  the  rest." 

Here  Cosmo  returned  with  the  brandy-flask,  which 
he  had  found  in  his  greatcoat.  His  lordship  stretched 
out  both  hands  to  it,  more  eagerly  even  than  when  he 
welcomed  the  cob-webbed  magnum  of  claret  —  hands 
trembling  with  feebleness  and  hunger  for  strength. 
Heedless  of  his  host's  offer  of  water  and  a  glass,  he 
put  it  to  his  mouth,  and  swallowed  three  great  gulps 
; hurriedly.  Then  he  breathed  a  deep  breath,  seemed 
to  say  with  Macbeth,  "  Ourselves  again  !  "  drew  him- 
self up  in  a  chair,  and  glanced  around  him  with  a 
look  of  gathering  arrogance.  A  kind  of  truculent 
question  was  in  his  eyes  —  as  much  as  to  say,  "Now 
then,  what  do  you  make  of  it  all  ?  What's  your 
candid  notion  about  me  and  my  extraordinary  be- 
haviour ? "     After  a  moment's  silence,  — 

"What  puzzles  me  is  this,"  he  jaid,  "how  the 
deuce  I  came,  of  all  places,  to  come  just  here!  I 
don't  believe,  in  all  my  wicked  life,  I  ever  made  such 


THAT    NIGHT 


^95 


a  fool  of  myself  before  —  and  I've  made  many  a  fool 
of  myself  too  !  " 

Receiving  no  answer,  he  took  another  pull  at  his 
flask.  The  laird  stood  a  little  behind  and  watched 
him,  harking  back  upon  old  stories,  putting  this  and 
that  together,  and  resolving  to  have  a  talk  with  old 
Grannie. 

A  minute  or  two  more,  and  his  lordship  got  up, 
and  proceeded  to  wash  his  face  and  hands,  ordering 
Cosmo  about  after  the  things  he  wanted,  as  if  he  had 
been  his  valet. 

"  Richard's  himself  again  !  "  he  said  in  a  would-be 
jaunty  voice,  the  moment  he  had  finished  his  toilet, 
and  looked  in  a  crow-cocky  kind  of  a  way  at  the 
laird.  But  the  latter  thought  he  saw  trouble  still  un- 
derneath the  look. 

"  Now  then,  Mr.  Warlock,  where 's  this  breakfast  of 
yours  ?  "  he  said. 

"  For  that,  my  lord,"  replied  the  laird,  "  I  must  beg 
you  to  come  to  the  kitchen.  The  dining-room  in  this 
weather  would  freeze  the  very  marrow  of  your 
bones." 

"  And  look  you !  it  don't  want  freezing,"  said  his 
lordship,  with  a  shudder.  "  The  kitchen  to  be  sure  ! 
—  I  don't  desire  a  better  place.  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
enter  this  room  again  !  "  he  muttered  to  himself  — 
not  too  low  to  be  heard.  "My  tastes  are  quite  as 
simple  as  yours,  Mr.  Warlock,  though  I  have  not  had 
the  same  opportunity  of  indulging  them." 

He  seemed  rapidly  returning  to  the  semblance  of 
what  he  would  have  called  a  gentleman. 

He  rose,  and  the  laird  led  the  way.     Lord  Mer- 


196         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

gwain  followed ;  and  Cosmo,  coming  immediately 
behind,  heard  him  muttering  to  himself  all  down  the 
stairs  :  "  Mere  confounded  nonsense  !  Nothing  what- 
ever but  the  drink  !  —  I  must  say  I  prefer  the  day- 
light after  all.  —  Yes  !  that's  the  drawing-room.  — 
What's  done's  done  —  and  more  than  done,  for  it 
can't  be  done  again  !  " 

It  was  a  nipping  and  an  eager  air  into  which  they^ 
stepped  from  the  great  door.  The  storm  had  ceased, 
but  the  snow  lay  much  deeper,  and  all  the  world 
seemed  folded  in  a  lucent  death,  of  which  the  white 
mounds  were  the  graves.  All  the  morning  it  had 
been  snowing  busily,  for  no  footsteps  were  between 
the  two  doors  but  those  of  Cosmo. 

When  they  reached  the  kitchen,  there  was  a  grand 
fire  on  the  hearth,  and  a  great  pot  on  the  fire,  in 
which  the  porridge  Grizzle  had  just  made  was  swelling 
in  huge  bubbles  that  burst  in  sighs.  Old  Grizzle  was 
bright  as  the  new  day,  bustling  and  deedy.  Her 
sense  of  the  awful  was  nowise  to  be  measured  by  the 
degree  of  her  dread :  she  believed  and  did  not  fear 
—  much.  She  had  an  instinctive  consciousness  that 
a  woman  ought  to  be,  and  might  be,  and  was  a  match 
for  the  devil. 

"  I  am  sorry  we  have  no  coffee  for  your  lordship,'* 
said  the  laird,  "  To  tell  the  truth,  we  seldom  take 
anything  more  than  our  country's  porridge.  I  hope 
you  can  take  tea?  Our  Grizzle's  scons  are  good, 
with  plenty  of  butter." 

His  lordship  had  in  the  meantime  taken  another 
pull  at  the  brandy-flask,  and  was  growing  more  and 
more  polite. 


THAT    NIGHT.  1 97 


"  The  man  would  be  hard  to  please,"  he  said, 
"  who  would  not  be  enticed  to  eat  by  such  a  display 
of  good  victuals.  Tea  for  me,  before  everything  !  — 
How  am  I  to  pretend  to  swallow  the  stuff  ? "  he 
murmured,  rather  than  muttered,  to  himself.  —  "  But," 
he  went  on  aloud,  "didn't  that  cheating  rascal 
leave  you  —  " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  the  laird  saw  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  something  on  the  table,  and  following 
their  look,  saw  it  was  a  certain  pepper-pot,  of  odd  de- 
vice —  a  piece  of  old  china,  in  the  shape  of  a  clum- 
sily made  horse,  with  holes  between  the  ears  for  the 
issue  of  the  pepper. 

"  I  see,  my  lord,"  he  said,  "  you  are  amused  with 
the  pepper-pot.  It  is  a  curious  utensil,  is  it  not  .-*  It 
has  been  in  the  house  a  long  time  —  longer  than 
anybody  knows.  Which  of  my  great-grandmothers 
let  it  take  her  fancy,  it  is  impossible  to  say  ;  but  I  sup- 
pose the  reason  for  its  purchase,  if  not  its  manufac- 
ture, was,  that  a  horse  passant  has  been  the  crest  of 
our  family  from  time  immemorial." 

"  Curse  the  crest,  and  the  horse  too ! "  said  his 
lordship. 

The  laird  started.  His  guest  had  for  the  last  few 
minutes  been  behaving  so  much  like  a  civilized 
being,  that  he  was  not  prepared  for  such  a  sudden 
relapse  into  barbarity.  But  the  entrance  of  Lady 
Joan,  looking  radiant,  diverted  the  current  of  things. 

The  fact  was,  that,  like  not  a  few  old  people.  Lord 
Mergwain  had  fallen  into  such  a  habit  of  speaking  in 
his  worse  moods  without  the  least  restraint,  that  in 
his  better  moods,  which  were  indeed  only  good  by 


198  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

comparison,  he  spoke  in  the  same  way,  without  being 
aware  of  it,  and  of  himself  seldom  discovering  that  he 
had  spoken. 

The  rest  of  the  breakfast  passed  in  peace.  The 
visitors  had  tea,  oatcake,  and  scons,  with  fresh 
butter  and  jam ;  and  Lady  Joan,  for  all  the  frost  and 
snow,  had  yet  a  new-laid  egg  —  the  only  one  ;  while 
the  laird  and  Cosmo  ate  their  porridge  and  milk  — 
the  latter  very  scanty  at  this  season  of  the  year,  and 
tasting  not  a  little  of  turnip  —  and  Grizzle,  seated 
on  a  stool  at  some  distance  from  the  table,  took  her 
porridge  with  treacle.  Mrs.  Warlock  had  not  yet 
left  her  room. 

When  the  meal  was  over.  Lord  Mergwain  turned  to 
his  host,  and  said, 

"Will  you  oblige  me,  Mr.  Warlock,  by  sending 
orders  to  my  coachman  to  have  the  horses  put  to  as 
quickly  as  possible :  we  must  not  trespass  more  on 
your  hospitality.  —  Confound  me  if  I  stop  an  hour 
longer  in  this  hole  of  a  place,  though  it  be  daylight !  " 

"  Papa  !  "  cried  Lady  Joan. 

His  lordship  understood,  looked  a  little  confused, 
and  with  much  readiness  sought  to  put  the  best  face 
on  his  blunder. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Warlock,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  al- 
ways had  a  bad  habit  of  speech,  and  now  that  I  am 
an  old  man,  I  don't  improve  on  it." 

"Don't  mention  it,  my  lord,"  returned  the  laird. 
"I  will  go  and  see  about  the  carriage;  but  I  am 
more  than  doubtful." 

He  left  the  kitchen,  and  Cosmo  followed  him. 
Lord  Mergwain  turned  to  his  daughter  and  said. 


THAT    NIGHT.  1 99 


"  What  does  the  man  mean  ?  I  tell  you,  Joan,  I 
am  going  at  once.  So  don't  you  side  with  him  if  he 
wants  us  to  stop.  He  may  have  his  reasons.  I  knew 
this  confounded  place  before  you  were  born,  and  I 
hate  it." 

"Very  good,  papa!"  replied  Lady  Joan,  with  a 
slight  curl  of  her  lip.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  should 
fancy  I  should  like  to  stop." 

They  had  spoken  aloud,  regardless  of  the  presence 
of  Grizzle. 

"  May  it  be  lang  afore  ye're  in  a  waur  an'  a  warmer 
place,  my  lord  an'  my  lady,"  said  the  old  woman, 
with  the  greatest  politeness  of  manner  she  knew  how 
to  assume.  When  people  were  rude,  she  thought  she 
had  a  right  to  be  rude  in  return.  But  they  took  no 
more  notice  than  if  they  had  not  heard. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


THROUGH   THE   DAY. 


It  was  a  glorious  morning.  The  wind  had  fallen 
quite,  and  the  sun  was  shining  as  if  he  would  say, 
"  Keep  up  your  hearts  ;  I  am  up  here  still.  I  have 
not  forgotten  you.  By  and  by  you  shall  see  more  of 
me."  But  Nature  lay  dead,  with  a  great  white  sheet 
cast  over  face  and  form.  Not  dead  ?  —  Just  as  much 
dead  as  ever  was  man,  save  for  the  inner  death  with 
which  he  kills  himself,  and  which  she  cannot  die.  It 
is  only  to  the  eyes  of  his  neighbours  that  the  just  man 
dies :  to  himself,  and  to  those  on  the  other  side,  he 
does  not  die,  but  is  born  instead  :  "  He  that  liveth 
and  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die."  But  the  poor 
old  lord  felt  the  approaching  dank  and  cold  of  the 
sepulchre  as  the  end  of  all  things  to  him  —  if  indeed 
he  would  be  permitted  to  lie  there,  and  not  have  to 
get  up  and  go  to  worse  quarters  still. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you,  my  lord,"  said  the 
laird,  re-entering,  "  that  both  our  roads  and  your 
horses  are  in  such  a  state  that  it  is  impossible  you 
should  proceed  today." 


THRUUGH    THE    DAY. 


His  guest  turned  white  through  all  the  discolora- 
tion of  his  countenance.  His  very  soul  grew  too 
white  t6  swear.  He  stood  silent,  his  pendulous  under 
lip  trembling. 

"Though  the  wind  fell  last  night,"  resumed  the 
laird,  "  the  snow  came  on  again  before  the  morning, 
and  it  seems  impossible  you  should  get  through.  To 
attempt  it  would  be  to  run  no  small  risk  of  your 
lives."  ■ 

"Joan,"  said  Lord  Mergwain,  "go  and  tell  the  ras- 
cal to  put  the  horses  to." 

Lady  Joan  rose  at  once,  took  her  shawl,  put  it  over 
her  head,  and  went.  Cosmo  ran  to  open  the  door  for 
her.  The  laird  looked  on,  and  said  not  a  word  :  the 
headstrong  old  man  would  find  the  thing  could  not  be 
done  ! 

"Will  you  come  and  find  the  coachman  for  me, 
Cosmo  ? "  said  Lady  Joan  when  they  reached  the 
door — with  a  flash  of  her  white  teeth  and  her  dark  eyes 
that  bewitched  the  boy.  Then  first,  in  the  morning 
light,  and  the  brilliance  of  the  snow-glare,  he  saw  that 
she  was  beautiful.  When  the  shadows  were  dark 
about  her,  the  darkness  of  her  complexion  obscured 
itself ;  against  the  white  sheen  she  stood  out  darkly 
radiant.  Specially  he  noted  the  long  eyelashes  that 
made  a  softening  twilight  round  the  low  horizon-like 
luminousness  of  her  eyes. 

Through  the  deep  snow  between  the  kitchen  and 
the  stable,  were  none  but  his  father's  footsteps.  He 
cast  a  glance  at  her  small  feet,  daintily  shod  in  little 
more  than  sandals :  she  could  not  put  down  one  of 
them  anywhere  without  sinking  beyond  her  ankle ! 


202  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  My  lady,"  he  said,  "  you'll  get  your  feet  soaking 
wet!  They're  so  small,  they'll  just  dibble  the  snow! 
Please  ask  your  papa  if  I  mayn't  go  and  give  his 
message.     It  will  do  just  as  well." 

"  I  must  go  myself,"  she  answered.  "  Sometimes 
he  will  trust  nobody  but  me." 

"  Stop  then  a  moment,"  said  Cosmo.  "  Just  come 
to  the  drawing-room.  I  won't  keep  you  more  than 
two  minutes.  The  path  there,  you  see,  is  pretty  well 
trodden." 

He  led  the  way,  and  she  followed. 

The  fire  was  alight,  and  burning  well ;  for  Grizzie, 
foreseeing  how  it  must  be,  and  determined  she  would 
not  have  strangers  in  the  kitchen  all  day,  had  lighted 
it  early.  Lady  Joan  walked  straight  to  it,  and  drop- 
ped, with  a  little  shiver,  into  a  chair  beside  it.  To 
Cosmo  the  sight  of  the  blaze  brought  a  strange  de- 
light, like  the  discovery  of  a  new  loveliness  in  an 
old  friend.  To  Lady  Joan  the  room  looked  old- 
fashioned  dreariness  itself,  to  Cosmo  an  ancient 
marvel,  ever  fresh. 

He  left  her,  and  ran  to  his  own  room,  whence 
presently  he  returned  with  a  pair  of  thick  woollen 
stockings,  knitted  in  green  and  red  by  the  hands  of 
his  grandmother.  These  he  carried  to  Lady  Joan, 
where  she  sat  on  the  low  chair,  and  kneeling  before 
her,  began,  without  apology  or  explanation,  to  draw 
one  of  them  over  the  dainty  foot  placed  on  the  top 
of  the  other  in  front  of  the  fire.  She  gave  a  little 
start,  and  half  withdrew  her  foot ;  then  looking  down 
at  the  kneeling  figure  of  service  before  her,  recog- 
nized at  once  the  utterly  honest    and  self-forgetful 


203 


COSMO   CONDUCTED    HER   TO   THE   STABLE.' 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  205 

earnestness  of  the  boy,  and  submitted.  Carefully  he 
drew  the  stockings  on,  and  she  neither  opposed  nor 
assisted  him.  When  he  had  done,  he  looked  up  in 
her  face  with  an  expression  that  seemed  to  say  — 
"There  now!  can't  I  do  it  properly.?"  but  did  not 
speak.  She  thanked  him,  rose,  and  went  out,  and 
Cosmo  conducted  her  to  the  stable,  where  he  heard 
the  coachman,  as  ^e  called  him,  not  much  better 
than  a  stable-boy,  whistling.  She  gave  him  her 
father's  order. 

The  lad  stared  with  open  mouth,  and  pointed  to 
one  of  the  stalls.  There  stood  an  utterly  wretched 
horse,  swathed  in  a  cloth,  with  his  head  hanging 
down,  heedless  of  the  food  before  him.  It  was  clear 
no  hope  lay  there.     She  turned  and  looked  at  Cosmo. 

"  The  better  for  us,  my  lady ! "  replied  Cosmo 
to  her  look;  "we  shall  have  your  beautiful  eyes 
the  longer  I  They  were  lost  in  the  dark  last  night, 
because  they  are  made  out  of  it,  but  now  we  see  them, 
we  don't  want  to  part  with  them." 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled,  saying  to  herself 
the  boy  would  be  dangerous  by  and  by,  and  together 
they  went  back  to  the  kitchen,  where  since  they  left 
not  a  word  had  been  spoken.  Grizzle  was  removing 
the  breakfast  things ;  Lord  Mergwain  was  seated  by 
the  fire,  staring  into  it ;  and  the  laird  had  got  his 
Journal  of  George  Fox,  and  was  reading  diligently : 
when  nothing  was  to  be  done,  the  deeper  mind  of 
the  laird  grew  immediately  active. 

When  Lady  Joan  entered,  her  father  sat  up  straight 
in  his  chair :  he  expected  opposition  ! 

"  One  of  the  horses,  my  lord,  is  quite  unfit,"  she  said. 


2o6  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Then,  by  my  soul  !  we'll  start  with  the  other," 
he  replied,  in  a  tone  that  sounded  defiance  to  heaven 
or  earth  or  whatever  said  him  nay. 

"  As  your  lordship  pleases,"  returned  Joan. 

*'  My  lord,"  said  the  laird,  lowering  his  book  to  his 
knee,  "  if  I  thought  four  cart-horses  would  pull  you 
through  to  Howglen  to-night,  you  should  have  them  ; 
but  you  would  simply  stick  fast,  horses  and  all,  in 
the  snow-wreaths." 

The  old  man  uttered  an  exclamation  with  an  awful 
solemnity,  and  said  no  more,  but  collapsed,  and  sat 
huddled  up,  staring  into  the  fire. 

"  You  must  just  make  the  best  of  your  quarters 
here  ;  they  are  entirely  at  your  service,  my  lord,"  said 
the  laird.  "  We  shall  not  starve.  There  are  sheep  on 
the  place,  pigs  and  poultry,  and  plenty  of  oatmeal, 
though  very  little  flour.  There  is  milk  too  —  and 
a  little  wine,  and  I  think  we  shall  do  well  enough." 

Lord  Mergwain  made  no  answer,  but  in  his  silence 
seemed  to  be  making  up  his  mind  to  the  includible. 

"  Have  you  any  more  of  that  claret  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Not  much,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  answered  the 
laird,  "  but  it  is  your  lordship's  while  it  lasts." 

"  If  this  lasts,  I  shall  drink  your  cellar  dry,"  re- 
joined his  lordship  with  a  feeble  grin.  "  I  may  as 
well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  From  my  childhood 
I  have  never  known  what  it  was  not  to  be  thirsty. 
I  believe  thirst  to  be  the  one  unfailing  birth-mark 
of  the  family.  I  was  what  the  methodists  call 
a  drunkard  before  I  was  born.  My  father  died 
of  drink.  So  did  my  grandfather.  You  must  have 
some  pity  on  me,  if  I  should  want  more  than  seems 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  207 

reasonable.  The  only  faculty  ever  cultivated  in 
our  strain  was  drinking,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  it 
has  not  been  brought  to  perfection  yet.  Perfection 
is  to  get  drunk  and  never  know  it ;  but  I  have  bad 
dreams,  sir !  I  have  bad  dreams !  And  the  worst 
of  it  is,  if  once  I  have  a  bad  dream,  I  am  sure 
to  have  it  again;  and  if  it  come  first  in  a  strange 
place,  it  will  come  every  night  until  I  leave  that 
place.  I  had  a  very  bad  one  last  night,  as  you 
know.  I  grant  it  came  because  I  drank  too  much 
yesterday,  but  that  won't  keep  it  from  coming  again 
to-night." 

He  started  to  his  feet,  the  muscles  of  his  face 
working  frightfully. 

"  Send  for  your  horses,  Mr.  Warlock,"  he  cried. 
"  Have  them  put  to  at  once.  Four  of  them,  you 
said.  At  once  —  at  once  !  Out  of  this  I  must  go. 
If  it  be  to  —  itself,  go  I  must  and  will." 

"My  lord,"  said  the  laird,  "I  cannot  send  you 
from  my  house  in  this  weather.  As  my  guest,  I  am 
bound  to  do  my  best  for  you  ;  especially  as  I  under- 
stand the  country,  and  you  do  not.  I  said  you  should 
have  my  horses  if  I  thought  they  could  take  you 
through,  but  I  do  not  think  it.  Besides,  the^  change, 
in  my  judgment,  is  a  deceitful  one,  and  this  night 
may  be  worse  than  the  last.  Poor  as  your  accommo- 
dation is,  it  is  better  than  the  open  road  between  this 
and  Howglen  ;  though,  doubtless,  before  to-morrow 
morning  you  would  be  snug  in  the  heart  of  a  snow- 
wreath." 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  said  Lord  Mergwain,  and  rising, 
he  went  up  to  the  laird,  and  laid  his  hand  on   his 


2o8  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

shoulder ;  "  if  I  stop,  will  you  give  me  another  room, 
and  promise  to  share  it  with  me  to-night  ?  I  am 
aware  it  is  an  odd  request  to  make,  but,  as  I  tell  you, 
we  have  been  drinking  for  generations,  and  my 
nerves  are  the  worse  for  it.  It's  rather  hard  that 
the  sins  of  the  fathers  should  be  visited  on  the  chil- 
dren !  Before  God,  I  have  enough  to  do  with  my 
own,  let  alone  my  fathers' !  Every  one  should  bear 
his  own  burden.  I  can't  bear  mine.  If  I  could, 
it's  not  much  my  fathers'  would  trouble  me  !  " 

"  My  lord,  I  will  do  anything  I  can  for  you  —  any- 
thing but  consent  to  your  leaving  Castle  Warlock 
to-day." 

"  You  will  spend  the  night  with  me  then? " 

"  I  will." 

"  But  not  in  that  room,  you  know." 

"  Anywhere  you  please  in  the  house,  my  lord,  ex- 
cept my  mother's  room." 

"  Then  I'll  stop.  —  Joan,  you  may  amuse  yourself ; 
we  are  not  going  till  to-morrow." 

The  laird  smiled ;  he  could  not  flatter  himself  with 
the  hope  of  so  speedy  a  departure.  Joan  turned  to 
Cosmo. 

"Will  you  take  me  about  the  place  ?  "  she  said. 

"If  you  mean  in-doors,"  interposed  the  laird.  "  It 
is  a  curious  old  house,  and  might  interest  you  a  little." 

"I  should  like  nothing  better.  May  I  go  with 
Cosmo  ? " 

"  Certainly :  he  will  be  delighted  to  attend  your 
ladyship.  —  Here  are  the  keys  of  the  cabinets  in  the 
drawing-room,  Cosmo.  Her  ladyship  may  like  to 
look  at  some  of  their  contents." 


THROUGH    THE    DAY. 


209 


"  I  hardly  know  enough  about  them,"  returned 
Cosmo.  "Won't  you  come  yourself,  father,  and 
show  them  to  us .?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  the  boy  used  the  appellation. 

"If  they  are  not  worth  looking  at  in  themselves, 
the  facts  about  them  cannot  be  of  much  consequence, 
my  boy,"  answered  the  laird. 

He  was  unwilling  to  leave  Lord  Mergwain.  Lady 
Joan  and  Cosmo  went  without  him. 

"  Perhaps  we  may  follow  you  by  and  by,"  said  the 
laird. 

"  Is  the  place  very  old,  Cosmo.?  "  asked  Lady  Joan 
on  their  way. 

"  Nobody  knows  how  old  the  oldest  part  of  it  is," 
answered  Cosmo,  "  though  dates  are  assigned  to  the 
most  of  what  you  will  see  to-day.  But  you  must  ask 
my  father ;  I  do  not  know  much  of  the  history  of 
it.  I  know  the  place  itself,  though,  as  well  as  he 
does.  I  fancy  I  know  nearly  every  visible  stone 
of  it." 

"  You  are  ver}^  fond  of  it,  then  ?  " 

"  There  never  could  be  any  place  like  it  to  me,  my 
lady.  I  know  it  is  not  very  beautiful,  but  I  love  it 
none  the  less  for  that.  I  sometimes  think  I  love  it 
the  more  for  its  ruggedness  —  ugliness,  if  you  please 
to  call  it  so.  If  my  mother  had  not  been  beautiful,  I 
should  love  her  all  the  same." — "and  think  there 
wasn't  anybody  like  her,"  he  was  going  to  add,  but 
checked  himself,  remembering  that  of  course  there 
was  not. 

Arrived  ill  the  drawing-room,  whither  Cosmo  led 
l^?^  first.  Lady  Joan  took  her  former  place  by  the  fire, 


2IO  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

and  sat  staring  into  it.  She  did  not  know  what  to 
make  of  what  she  saw  and  heard.  How  could  people 
be  happy,  she  thought,  in  such  a  dreary,  cold,  wretched 
countr}?-,  with  such  poverty-stricken  home-surround- 
ings, and  nothing  to  amuse  them  from  one  week's  end 
to  another  ?  Yet  they  seemed  to  be  happy  to  a  degree 
she  knew  nothing  of  !  For  alas,  her  home  was  far 
from  a  blessed  one  ;  and  as  she  had  no  fountain  open 
in  herself,'  but  looked  entirely  to  foreign  supply  for 
her  life-necessities,  and  as  such  never  can  be  so  sup- 
plied, her  life  was  not  a  flourishing  one. 

There  are  souls  innumerable  in  the  world,  as  dry 
as  the  Sahara  desert  —  souls  which,  when  they  look 
most  gay  and  summer-like,  are  only  flaunting  the 
flowers  gathered  from  other  people's  gardens,  stuck 
without  roots  into  their  own  unproducing  soil.  Oh, 
the  dreariness,  the  sandy  sadness  of  such  poor  arid 
souls !  They  are  hungry,  and  eat  husks ;  they  are 
thirsty,  and  drink  hot  wine ;  their  sleep  is  a  stupor, 
and  their  life,  if  not  an  unrest,  then  a  yielded  decay. 
Only  when  praised  or  admired  do  they  feel  as  if  they 
lived !  But  Joan  was  not  yet  of  such.  She  had  had 
too  much  discomfort  to  have  entered  yet  into  their 
number.  There  was  water  not  yet  far  from  the  sur- 
face of  her  consciousness. 

With  no  little  pleasure  and  some  pride,  Cosmo 
proceeded  to  take  the  family  treasures  from  their 
shelves ;  but,  alas  !  most  of  them  were  common  to 
the  eyes  of  one  who  also  had  a  family  and  a  history, 
lived  in  a  much  larger,  if  not  half  so  old  a  house,  and 
had  had  amongst  her  ancestors  more  thih  one  with  a 
liking   for   antiquities,  oddities,   and   bibelots.     Lady 


THROUGH    THE    DAY. 


Joan  regarded  them  listlessly,  willing  to  seem  to  at- 
tend to  the  boy,  but  with  her  thoughts  far  away, 
while  now  and  then  she  turned  a  weary  gaze  towards 
the  next  window :  all  she  saw  thence  was  a  great, 
mounded  country,  dreary  as  sunshine  and  white  cold 
could  make  it.  Storm,  driving  endless  whirls  of 
spectral  snow,  would  have  been  less  dreary  to  her 
than  the  smiling  of  this  cold  antagonism.  It  was  a 
picture  of  her  own  life.  Evil  greater  than  she  knew 
had  spread  a  winter  around  her.  If  her  father  suf- 
fered for  the  sins  of  his  fathers,  she  suffered  for  his, 
and  had  for  them  to  dwell  in  desolation  and  loneli- 
ness. 

One  thing  after  another  Cosmo  brought  her,  but 
none  of  them  seemed  much  to  interest  her.  She 
knew  the  sort  of  most  of  them. 

"This  is  said  to  be  solid  silver,"  he  remarked,  as 
he  laid  on  a  chair  beside  her  a  curious  little  statuette 
of  a  horse,  trapped  and  decorated  in  Indian  graving, 
and  haying  its  whole  surface  covered  with  an  involved 
and  rich  ornamental  design.  Its  eyes  were,  or  seemed 
to  be  rubies,  and  saddle  and  bridle  and  housing  were 
studded  with  small  gems.  There  was  little  merit  in 
the  art  of  it  beyond  the  engraving,  but  Cosmo  saw 
the  eyes  of  the  lady  fixed  upon  it,  with  a  strange  look 
in  them. 

"  That  is  the  only  thing  they  say  the  old  captain 
ever  gave  his  brother,  my  great-grand-father,"  said 
Cosmo.  "  But  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  added,  "  I  have 
never  told  you  the  story  of  the  old  captain ! " 

The  boy  already  felt  as  if  he  had  known  their  guest 
of  a  night  for  years :  the  hearts  of  the  young  are  di- 


212  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

vinely  hospitable,  which  is  one  of  the  things  that 
make  children  the  such  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Lady  Joan  took  the  horse  in  her  hand,  and  looked 
at  it  more  closely. 

"  It  is  very  heavy  !  "  she  remarked. 

"  It  is  said  to  be  solid  silver,"  repeated  Cosmo. 

She  laid  it  down,  and  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead, 
but  said  nothing. 

They  heard  the  steps  and  voices  of  the  two  gentle- 
men ascending  the  stair.  Lady  Joan  caught  up  the 
horse,  rose  hastily,  and  holding  it  out  to  Cosmo,  said, 

"  Quick  !  quick  !  put  it  away.  Don't  let  my  father 
see  it." 

Cosmo  cast  on  her  one  look  of  surprise,  and 
obeyed  at  once,  restored  it  to  its  place,  and  had  just 
closed  the  doors  of  the  cabinet,  when  Lord  Mergwain 
and  his  father  entered  the  room. 

They  were  a  peculiar-looking  pair  —  Lord  Mer- 
gwain in  antiquated  dress,  not  a  little  worn,  and  neither 
very  clean  nor  in  very  good  condition  —  a  snuffy,  di- 
lapidated, miserable,  feeble  old  man,  with  a  carriage 
where  doubt  seemed  rooted  in  apprehension,  every 
other  moment  casting  about  him  a  glance  of  enquiry, 
as  if  an  evil  spirit  came  running  to  the  mouth  of  his 
eye-caves,  looked  out,  and  retreated;  and  the  laird 
behind  him,  a  head  higher,  crowned  with  his  red 
night-cap,  and  dressed  as  I  have  already  described, 
looking  older  than  his  years,  but  bearing  on  his  face 
the  repose  of  discomfort  accepted,  his  eye  keen  and 
clear,  and,  when  turned  on  his  guest,  filled  with  com- 
passion rather  than  hospitality.  He  was  walking 
more  erect  than  usual,  either  in  recognition  of  the 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  213 

lady's  presence,  or  from  a  feeling  of  protection 
towards  her  father. 

"  Now,  my  lord,"  he  said,  as  they  advanced  from 
the  door,  "  we  will  set  you  in  a  warm  corner  by  the 
fire,  and  you  must  make  the  best  of  it.  We  can't 
have  things  all  as  we  should  like  them.  That  is  not 
what  the  world  was  made  for." 

His  lordship  returned  him  no  answer,  but  threw  a 
queer  look  from  under  his  black  wig  —  a  look  of  su- 
perior knowledge  —  of  the  wisdom  of  this  world. 

"  You  are  an  old  fool,"  it  said ;  "  but  you  are  mas- 
ter here  !     Ah  !  how^  little  you  know  !  " 

He  walked  tottering  to  the  fire  where  Cosmo  had 
already  set  for  him  a  chair.  Something  in  the  look 
of  it  displeased  him.     He  glanced  round  the  room. 

"  Fetch  me  that  chair,  my  boy,"  he  said,  not  un- 
kindly, and  Cosmo  hastened  to  substitute  the  one  he 
indicated.  The  laird  placed  a  tall  screen  behind  it. 
His  lordship  dropped  into  the  chair,  and  began  to  rub 
his  knees  with  his  hands,  and  gaze  into  the  fire. 
Lady  Joan  rearranged  her  skirts,  and  for  a  moment 
the  little  circle  looked  as  if  each  was  about  to  settle 
down  to  some  mild  enjoyment  of  the  others.  Cosmo 
drew  a  chair  as  near  Lady  Joan  as  he  judged  polite- 
ness would  permit.  The  laird  made  up  the  fire,  and 
turned  away,  saying  he  must  go  and  see  the  sick  horse. 

"  Mr.  Warlock  !  "  said  Lord  Mergwain,  and  spoke 
with  a  snarl,  "  you  will  not  deprive  us  of  the  only 
pleasure  we  have  —  that  of  your  company  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  my  lord,"  re- 
plied his  host ;  and  added,  "  I  must  see  about  lunch 
too." 


214  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK, 

"  That  was  wonderful  claret !  "  said  his  lordship, 
thoughtfully. 

"I  shall  see  to  the  claret,  my  lord." 

"  If  I  might  suggest,  let  it  be  brought  here.  A 
gentle  airing  under  my  own  eye,  just  an  introduction 
to  the  fire,  would  irnprove  what  is  otherwise  perfect. 
—  And  look  here,"  he  added,  as,  with  a  kindly  bow 
of  assent,  the  laird  was  going,  "  —  you  haven't  got  a 
pack  of  cards,  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  pack  somewhere  in  the 
house,"  replied  the  laird,  "but  it  is  very  old,  and  I 
fear  too  much  soiled  for  your  lordship's  hands." 

"  Oh,  confound  the  dirt !  "  said  his  lordship.  "  Let 
us  have  them.  They're  the  only  thing  to  make 
the  time  pass." 

"  Have  you  a  library  ?  "  asked  Lady  Joan  —  mainly 
to  say  something,  for  she  was  not  particularly  fond  of 
books ;  like  most  people  she  had  not  yet  learned  to 
read. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  a  library  ?  "  growled  her 
father.  "  Books  are  nothing  but  a  pack  of  lies,  not 
half  so  good  for  killing  time  as  a  pack  of  cards. 
You're  going  to  play  a  rubber,  not  to  read  books !  " 

"  With  pleasure,  papa,"  responded  Lady  Joan. 

"/don't  want  to  kill  the  time.  I  should  like  to 
keep  it  alive  for  ever,"  said  Cosmo,  with  a  worship- 
ping look  at  the  beautiful  lady — a  summer-bird  of 
heaven  that  had  strayed  into  their  lonely  winter. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  ;  you  are  an  idiot !  "  said  his 
lordship  angrily.  "  —  Old  and  young,"  he  went  on, 
unaware  of  utterance,  "  the  breed  is  idiotic.  'Tis  time 
it  were  played  out." 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  215 

Cosmo's  eyes  flashed.  But  the  rudesby  was  too 
old  to  be  served  as  he  had  served  the  schoolmaster ! 
He  was  their  guest  too,  and  the  father  of  the  lady  by 
his  side ! 

The  hand  of  the  lady  stole  to  his,  and  patting  it 
gently,  said,  as  plainly  as  if  it  had  been  her  mouth, 
"  Don't  mind  him  ;  he  is  an  old  man,  and  does  not 
know  what  he  is  saying."  He  looked  up  in  her  face, 
and  his  anger  was  gone. 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  said,  rising  ;  "I  will  show  you 
what  books  we  have.  There  may  be  one  you  would 
like  another  time.  We  shall  be  back  before  the 
cards  come." 

"Joan  !  "  cried  her  father,  "  sit  still." 

She  glanced  an  appeal  for  consideration  to  Cosmo, 
and  did  not  move.  Cosmo  sat  down  again.  A  few 
minutes  passed  in  silence.  Father  and  daughter 
stared  into  the  fire.  So  did  Cosmo.  But  into  what 
different  three  worlds  did  the  fire  stare  !  The  old 
man  rose  and  went  to  the  window. 

"  I  must  get  away  from  this  abominable  place,"  he 
said,  "  if  it  cost  me  my  life." 

He  looked  out  and  shuddered.  The  world  seemed 
impassable  as  a  dead  world  on  which  the  foot  of  the 
living  could  take  no  hold,  could  measure  no  distance, 
make  no  progress.  Not  a  print  of  man  or  of  beast 
was  visible.     It  was  like  a  world  not  yet  discovered. 

"  I  am  tied  to  the  stake  ;  I  hear  the  fire  roaring  !  " 
he  muttered.  "  My  fate  has  found  me — caught  me 
like  a  rat,  and  is  going  to  make  an  end  of  me  !  In 
my  time  nobody  believed  such  things  !  Now  they 
seem  to  be  coming  into  fashion  again  !  " 


WARLOCK    O     GLEN  WARLOCK. 


Whoever  would  represent  what  is  passing  in  a 
mind,  must  say  more  than  the  man  himself  knows 
how  to  say. 

The  laird  re-entered. 

"  Well,  have  you  brought  the  cards  ? "  said  Lord 
Mergwain,  turning  from  the  window. 

"  I  have,  my  lord.  I  am  sorry  it  is  such  a  poor  pack, 
but  we  never  play.  —  I  think,  Cosmo,  you  had  better 
come  with  me." 

"Hold  you,   laird,  we're  going  to  have  a  rubber  !  " 

"  Cosmo  does  not  understand  the  game." 

"  I  will  teach  him,"  said  Lady  Joan.  "  He  shall 
be  live  dummy  for  a  few  rounds ;  that  will  be 
enough." 

"  My  lord  will  not  care  to  play  for  counters,"  per- 
sisted the  laird,  "  and  we  cannot  play  for  money." 

"  I  don't  care  what  the  points  are,"  said  Lord 
Mergwain,  "  —  sixpence,  if  you  like  —  so  long  as  it  is 
money.  None  but  a  fool  cares  for  victory  where 
nothing  is  to  be  got  by  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  your  lordship,"  returned 
the  laird,  "but  play  for  money  neither  my  son  nor 
myself  will.  But  perhaps  you  would  like  a  game  of 
draughts,  or  backgammon.'* " 

"  Will  you  bet  on  the  game  or  the  gammon.? " 

"On  nothing,  my  lord." 

"Oh,  confound  you!" 

He  turned  again  and  went  to  the  window. 

"This  is  frightful!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Nothing 
whatever  to  help  one  to  forget !  If  the  day  goes  on 
like  this,  I  shall  out  with  everything.  —  Maybe  I  had 
better ! —  How  the  clodpoles  would  stare  !    I  believe  I 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  217 

should  laugh  in  the  middle  of  it.  —  And  that  fellow 
lurking  somewhere  all  the  time  about  the  place, 
watching  his  chance  when  the  night  comes! — It's 
horrible.  I  shall  go  mad ! "  This  last  he  spoke 
aloud. 

"  Papa !  "  said  his  daughter  sharply. 

Lord  Mergwain  started,  and  looked  troubled. 
What  he  might  have  uttered,  he  could  not  tell. 

"A  rubber,  then,"  he  said,  approaching  the  fire 
again,  "  —  on  any  terms,  or  no  terms  at  all !  " 

He  took  up  the  cards. 

"  Ha,  there's  blood  on  them,"  he  cried,  and 
dashing  them  on  th^  table,  turned  once  more  to  the 
window. 

He  was  like  a  bird  in  a  cage  that  knows  he  cannot 
get  out,  and  yet  keeps  trying,  as  if  he  dared  not  admit 
the  impossibility.  Twenty  times  that  morning  he 
went  to  the  window,  saying,  "  I  must  get  out  of  this ! " 
and  returned  again  to  his  seat  by  the  fire.  The 
laird  had  removed  the  pack,  and  he  said  nothing  more 
about  a  rubber.  Lady  Joan  tried  to  talk,  and  Cosmo 
did  his  best  to  amuse  her.  The  laird  did  his  en- 
deavour with  his  lordship,  but  with  small  suqcess. 
And  so  the  morning  crept  away.  It  might  have  been 
a  pleasant  one  to  the  rest,  but  for  the  caged  lord's 
misery.     At  last  came  Grizzle. 

"  Sir,  an'  my  lord,"  she  said,  "  come  ye  doon  the 
stair.  The  kail's  het,  an'  the  cheirs  is  set,  an'  yer 
denner's  waitin'  ye  there." 

It  may  have  been  already  observed,  that  to  Grizzle 
came  not  unfrequently  an  odd  way  of  riming  what 
she  said.     She  was  unaware  of  this  peculiarity.     The 


2l8.  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

suggestion  of  sound  by  sound  was  as  hidden  from  her 
as  it  was  deep-seated  in  her  and  strong.  And  this 
was  not  all:  the  riming  might  have  passed  unper- 
ceived  by  others  too,  but  for  the  accompanying  ten- 
dency to  rhythm  as  well.  Nor  was  this  by  any 
means  all  yet :  there  was  in  her  a  great  leaning  to 
poetic  utterance  generally,  and  that  arising  from  a 
poetic  habit  of  thought.  She  had  in  her  everything 
essential  to  the  making  of  a  poetess ;  yet  of  the 
whole  she  was  profoundly  ignorant ;  and  had  any  one 
sought  to  develop  the  general  gift,  I  believe  all  would 
have  shrunk  back  into  her  being. 

The  laird  rose  and  offered  his  arm  to  Lady  Joan. 
Lord  Mergwain  gave  a  grunt,  and  looked  only  a  little 
pleased  at  the  news :  no  discomfort  or  suffering,  men- 
tal or  spiritual,  made  him  indiffc-ent  to  luncheon  or 
dinner  —  for  after  each  came  the  bottle;  but  the 
claret  had  not  been  brought  to  the  drawing-room  as 
he  had  requested  !  V 

When  they  reached  the  kitchen,  he  looked  first 
eagerly,  then  uneasily  round  him :  no  bottle,  quart  or 
magnum  was  to  be  seen  !  A  cloud  gathered,  lowering 
and  heavy,  on  the  face  of  the  toper.  The  laird  saw 
it,  remembered  that,  in  his  anxiety  to  amuse  him,  he 
had  forgotten  his  dearest  delight,  and  vanished  in  the 
region  behind. 

Mrs.  Warlock,  according  to  her  custom,  was  al- 
ready seated  at  the  head  of  the  table.  She  bowed 
just  her  head  to  his  lordship,  and  motioned  him  to  a 
chair  on  her  right  hand.  He  took  it  with  a  courteous 
acknowledgment,  of  which  he  would  hardly  have  been 
capable,  had  he  not  guessed  on  what  errand  his  host 


THROUGH   THE   DAY.  219 

was  gone :  he  had  no  recollection  of  having  given  her 
offence. 

"I  hope  your  ladyship  is  well  this  morning?"  he 
said. 

"Ye  revive  an  auld  custom,  my  lord,"  returned  his 
hostess,  not  without  sign  of  gratification,  " — clean 
oot  o'  fashion  noo-a-days,  excep'  amang  the  semple. 
A  laird's  wife  has  no  richt  to  be  ca'd  my  ieddy,  'cep' 
by  auncient  custom." 

"  Oh,  if  you  come  to  that,"  returned  his  lordship, 
"three  fourths  of  the  titles  in  use  are  merely  of 
courtesy.  Joan  there  has  no  more  right  than  your- 
self to  be  called  7ny  lady.  Neither  has  my  son  Bor- 
land the  smallest  right  to  the  title ;  it  is  mine,  and 
mine  only,  as  much  as  Mergwain." 

The  old  lady  turned  her  head,  and  fixed  a  stolen 
but  searching  gaze  on  her  guest,  and  to  the  end  of 
the  meal  took  every  opportunity  of  regarding  him 
unobserved.  Her  son  from  the  other  end  of  the 
table  saw  her  looks,  and  guessed  her  suspicions ; 
saw  also  that  she  did  not  abate  her  courtesy,  but 
little  thought  to  what  her  calmness  was  owing. 

Mrs.  Warlock,  ready  to  welcome  anything  mar- 
vellous, had  held  with  Grizzle  much  conference  con- 
cerning what  had  passed  in  the  night  —  one  acci- 
dental result  of  which  was  the  disappearance  forthe 
time  of  all  little  rivalries  and  offences  between  them 
in  the  common  interest  of  an  awful  impending  de- 
nouement. She  had  never  heard,  or  had  forgotten 
the  title  to  which  Lord  Borland  of  the  old  time  was 
heir ;  and  now  that  all  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of 
the  man  was  over,  although,  let  her  strain  her  vision 


220  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

as  she  might,  she  could  not,  through  the  deforma- 
tion of  years,  descry  the  youthful  visage,  she  felt  that 
all  action  on  the  part  of  the  generation  in  possession 
was  none  the  less  forestalled  and  precluded  by  the 
presence  of  one  in  the  house  who  had  evidently  long 
waited  his  arrival,  and  had  certainly  but  begun  his 
reprisals.  More  would  be  heard  ere  the  next  dawn, 
she  said  to  herself ;  and  with  things  in  such  a  train 
she  would  not  interfere  by  the  smallest  show  of  feud 
or  offence.  Who  could  tell  how  much  that  certain 
inmate  of  the  house  —  she  hesitated  to  call  him  a 
member  of  the  family  —  and,  in  all  righteous  proba- 
bility, of  a  worse  place  as  well,  had  to  do  with  the 
storm  that  drove  Borland  thither,  and  the  storms  that 
might  detain  him  there !  already  there  were  signs 
of  a  fresh  onset  of  the  elements !  the  wind  was  ris- 
ing ;  it  had  begun  to  moan  in  the  wide  chimney ;  and 
from  the  quarter  whence  it  now  blew,  it  was  certain 
to  bring  more  storm,  that  is  snow  ! 

The  dinner  went  on.  The  great  magnum  before 
the  fire  was  gathering  genial  might  from  the  soft 
insinuation  of  limpid  warmth,  renewing  as  much  of 
its  youth  as  was  to  be  desired  in  wine ;  and  redevel- 
oping relations,  somewhat  suppressed,  with  the  slack- 
ening nerves  and  untwisting  fibres  of  an  old  man's 
earthly  being ! 

But  there  was  not  a  drop  to  drink  on  the  table, 
except  water ;  and  the  toper  found  it  hard  to  lay 
solid  foundation  enough  for  the  wine  that  was  to 
folloW;  and  grumbled  inwardly.  The  sight  of  the 
bottle  before  the  fire,  however,  did  much  to  enable 
him,  not  to  be  patient,  but  to  suppress  the  shows  of 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  221 

impatience.  He  eyed  it,  and  loved  it,  and  held  his 
peace.  He  saw  the  water  at  his  elbow,  and  hated 
it  the  worse  that  it  was  within  his  reach  —  hated  its 
cold  staring  rebuke  as  he  hated  virtue  —  hated  it  as 
if  its  well  were  in  the  churchyard  where  the  old  cap- 
tain was  buried  sixty  years  ago.  —  Confound  him  ! 
why  wouldn't  he  lie  still .''  He  made  some  effort  to 
be  polite  to  the  old  hag,  as  he  called  her,  in  that  not 
very  secret  chamber  of  his  soul,  whose  door  was 
but  too  ready  to  fall  ajar,  and  allow  its  evil  things  to 
issue.  He  searched  his  lumber-room  for  old  stories 
to  tell,  but  found  it  difficult  to  lay  hold  on  any  fit 
for  the  ears  present,  though  one  of  the  ladies  was 
an  old  woman  —  old  enough,  he  judged,  not  to  be 
startled  at  anything,  and  the  other  his  own  daughter, 
who  ought  to  see  no  harm  when  her  father  made  the 
company  laugh !  It  was  a  miserable  time  for  him, 
but,  like  a  much  enduring  magician  awaiting  the  mo- 
ment of  power,  he  kept  eying  the  bottle,  and  gath- 
ering comfort. 

Grizzle  eyed  him  from  behind,  almost  as  he  eyed 
the  bottle.  She  eyed  him  as  she  might  the  devil 
caught  in  the  toils  of  the  arch-angel ;  and  if  she  did 
not  bring  against  him  a  railing  accusation,  it  was 
more  from  cunning  than  politeness.  "  Ah,  my  fine 
fellow!"  her  eyes  said,  "he  is  after  you!  he  will  be 
here  presently ! " 

Grizzle  afforded  a  wonderfully  perfect  instance  of 
a  relation  which  is  one  of  the  loveliest  in  humanity 
—  absolute  service  without  a  shade  of  servility.  She 
would  have  died  for  her  master,  but  even  to  him  she 
must  speak  her  mind.     Her  own  affairs  were  noth- 


2  22  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ing  to  her,  and  those  of  her.  master  as  those  of  the 
universe,  but  she  was  vitally  one  of  his  family,  as 
the  toes  belong  to  the  head  !  In  truth,  she  was  of 
the  family  like  a  poor  relation,  with  few  privileges, 
and  no  end  of  duties  ;  and  she  thought  ten  times 
more  of  her  duties  than  her  privileges.  She  would 
have  fed,  and  sometimes  did  feed  with  perfect  sat- 
isfaction on  the  poorest  scraps  remaining  from  meals, 
but  a  doubt  of  the  laird's  preference  of  her  porridge 
to  that  of  any  maker  in  broad  Scotland,  would  have 
given  her  a  sore  heart.  She  would  have  wept  bitter 
tears  had  the  privilege  of  washing  the  laird's  feet 
been  taken  from  her.  If  reverence  for  the  human 
is  an  essential  element  of  greatness,  then  at  least 
greatness  was  possible  to  Grizzie.  She  dealt  with  no 
abstractions ;  she  worshipped  one  living  man,  and 
that  is  the  first  step  toward  the  love  of  all  men  ; 
while  some  will  talk  glowingly  about  humanity,  and 
be  scornful  as  a  lap-dog  to  the  next  needy  embodi- 
ment of  it  that  comes  in  their  way.  Such  as  Grizzie 
will  perhaps  prove  to  be  of  those  last  foredoomed  to 
be  first.  With  the  tenderness  of  a  ministering  angel 
ar.d  mother  combined,  her  eyes  waited  upon  her 
master.  She  took  her  return  beforehand  in  the  as- 
surance that  the  laird  would  follow  her  to  the  grave, 
would  miss  her,  and  at  times  think  nobody  could  do 
something  or  other  so  much  to  his  mind  as  old 
Grizzie.  And  if,  like  the  old  captain,  she  might  be 
permitted  to  creep  about  the  place  after  night-fall, 
she  desired  nothing  better  than  the  chance  of  serving 
him  still,  if  but  by  rolling  a  stone  out  of  his  way. 
The   angels   might    bear  him  in  their   hands  —  she 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  223 

could  not  aspire  to  that,  but  it  would  be  much  the 
4  same  whether  she  got  the  stone  out  of  the  way  of  his 
foot,  or  they  lifted  his  foot  above  the  stone  ! 

Dinner  over,  the  laird  asked  his  guest  whether  he 
would  take  his  wine  where  he  was,  or  have  it  carried 
to  the  drawing-room.  The  offering  of  this  alternative, 
the  old  lady,  to  use  an  Elizabethan  phrase,  took  in 
snuff;  for  although  she  never  now  sat  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  indeed  rarely  crossed  its  threshold,  it  was 
her  room ;  and,  ladies  having  been  banished  from  the 
dining-room  while  men  drank,  what  would  be  left  them 
if  next,  bottle  in  hand,  the  men  invaded  the  drawing- 
room  ?  But  happily  their  guest  declined  the  proposal, 
and  that  on  the  very  ground  of  respect  for  her  lady- 
ship's apartment ;  the  consequence  of  which  was  that 
she  very  nearly  forgave  him  the  murder  of  which  she 
never  doubted  him  guilty,  saying  to  herself  that, 
whatever  he  might  be  when  disguised,  poor  man  — 
and  we  all  had  our  failings  —  he  knew  how  to  behave 
when  sober,  and  that  was  more  than  could  be  said  for 
everybody!  So  the  old  lord  sat  in  the  kitchen  and 
drank  his  wine ;  and  the  old  lady  sat  by  the  fire  and 
knitted  her  stocking,  went  to  sleep,  and  woke  up,  and 
went  to  sleep  again  a  score  of  times,  and  enjoyed  her 
afternoon.  Not  a  word  passed  between  the  two : 
now,  in  his  old  age.  Lord  Mergwain  never  talked 
over  his  bottle ;  he  gave  his  mind  to  it.  The  laird 
went  and  came,  unconsciously  anxious  to  be  out  of  the 
way  of  his  guest,  and  consciously  anxious  not  to  neg- 
lect him,  but  nothing  was  said  on  either  side.  The 
old  lady  knitted  and  dozed,  and  his  lordship  sat  and 
drank,  now  and  then  mingling  the  aesthetic  with  the 


224  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK, 

sensual,  and  holding  his  glass  to  the  light  to  enjoy  its 
colour  and  brilliancy,  —  doing  his  poor  best  to  en-, 
courage  the  presence  of  what  ideas  he  counted  agree- 
able, and  prevent  the  intrusion  of  their  opposites. 
And  still  as  he  drank,  the  braver  he  grew,  and  the 
more  confident  that  the  events  of  the  past  night  were 
but  the  foolish  consequences  of  having  mingled  so 
many  liquors,  which,  from  the  state  of  the  thermome- 
ter, had  grown  cold  in  his  very  stomach,  and  bred 
rank  fancies !  "  With  two  bottles  like  this  under  my 
belt,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  would  defy  them  all,  but 
this  wretched  night-capped  curmudgeon  of  a  host 
will  never  fetch  me  a  second!  If  he  had  not  been 
so  niggardly  last  night,  I  should  have  got  through 
well  enough ! " 

Lady  Joan  and  Cosmo  had  been  all  over  the  house, 
and  were  now  sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  silent  in  the 
firelight.  Lady  Joan  did  not  yet  find  Cosmo  much 
of  a  companion,  though  she  liked  to  have  him  beside 
her,  and  would  have  felt  the  dreariness  more  penetra- 
ting without  him.  But  to  Cosmo  her  presence  was  an 
experience  as  marvellous  and  lovely  as  it  was  new 
and  strange.  He  had  never  save  in  his  dreams 
before  been  with  one  who  influenced  him  with  beauty; 
and  never  one  of  his  dreams  came  up  to  the  dream- 
like reality  that  now  folded  him  about  with  bliss. 
For  he  sat,  an  isolating  winter  stretched  miles  and 
miles  around  him,  in  the  old  paradise  of  his  mother's 
drawing-room,  in  the  glorious  twilight  of  a  peat  and 
wood  fire,  the  shadows  flickering  about  at  their  own 
wild  will  over  all  the  magic  room,  at  the  feet  of 
a  lady,  whose  eyes  were    black    as    the    night,  but 


THROUGH   THE   DAY.  225 

alive  with  a  radiance  such  as  no  sun  could  kindle, 
whose  hand  was  like  warm  snow,  whose  garments 
were  lovely  as  the  clouds  that  clothe  a  sunset,  and 
who  inhabited  an  atmosphere  of  evanescent  odours 
that  were  themselves  dreams  from  a  region  beyond 
the  stars,  while  the  darkness  that  danced  with  the 
firelight  played  all  sorts  of  variations  on  the  theme 
of  her  beauty. 

How  long  he  had  sat  lost  in  the  dream-haunted 
gorgeous  silence  he  did  not  know,  when  suddenly 
he  bethought  himself  that  he  ought  to  be  doing  some- 
thing to  serve  or  amuse,  or  at  least  interest  the  heav- 
enly visitant.  Strangers  and  angels  must  be  enter- 
tained, nor  must  the  shadow  of  loneliness  fall  upon 
them.  Now  to  that  end  he  knew  one  thing  always 
good,  always  at  hand,  and  specially  fitting  the  time. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story,  my  lady.?  "  he  said,  look- 
ing up  to  her  from  the  low  stool  on  which  he  had 
taken  his  place  at  her  feet. 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,"  she  answered,  finding  herself 
in  a  shoal  of  sad  thoughts,  and  willing  to  let  them 
drift. 

"  Then  I  will  try.  But  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  tell  it 
so  well  as  Grizzle  told  it  me.  Her  old-fashioned  way 
suits  the  stor^'.  And  then  I  must  make  English  of  it 
for  your  ladyship,  and  that  goes  still  worse  with  it." 

Alas  !  alas  !  the  speech  of  every  succeeding  gener- 
ation is  a  falling  away  from  the  pith  and  pathos  of 
the  preceding.  Speech  gains  in  scope,  but  loses  in 
intensity, 

"  There  was  once  a  girl  in  the  Highlands,"  began 
Cosmo,  "  —  not  very  far  from  here  it  was,  who  was 


226  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

very  beautiful,  so  that  every  young  man  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood fell  in  love  with  her.  She  was  as  good  as 
she  was  beautiful,  and  of  course  would  not  let  more 
than  one  be  her  lover,  and  said  no  to  every  one  else ; 
and  if  after  that  they  would  go  on  loving  her,  she 
could  not  help  it.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  sheep- 
farmer,  who  had  a  great  many  sheep  that  fed  about 
over  the  hills,  and  she  helped  her  father  to  look  after 
them,  and  was  as  good  and  obedient  as  any  lamb  of 
his  flock.  And  her  name  was  Mary.  Her  other 
name  I  do  not  know. 

"Now  her  father  had  a  young  shepherd,  only  a 
year  or  two  older  than  Mary,  and  he  of  course  was  in 
love  with  her  as  well  as  the  rest,  and  more  in  love 
with  her  than  any  of  them,  because  he  was  the  most 
to  be  trusted  of  all  in  that  country-side.  He  was 
very  strong  and  very  handsome,  and  a  good  shepherd. 
He  was  out  on  the  hills  all  day,  from  morning  to 
night,  seeing  that  the  sheep  did  their  duty,  and  ate 
the  best  grass,  so  as  to  give  plenty  of  good  wool,  and 
good  mutton  when  it  was  wanted.  —  That's  the  way 
Grizzle  tells  the  stor}^,  my  lady,  though  not  so  that 
you  would  understand  her.  —  When  any  of  the  lambs 
were  weakly  or  ill,  they  were  brought  home  for  Mary 
to  nurse,  and  that  was  how  the  young  shepherd  came 
to  know  Mary,  and  Mary  to  know  him.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass  that  they  grew  fond  of  each  other,  and 
saw  each  other  as  often  as  they  could  ;  and  Mary 
promised,  if  her  father  would  let  her,  she  would  marry 
Alister.  But  her  father  was  too  well-off  to  show 
favour  to  a  poor  shepherd  lad,  for  his  heart  had  got 
so  full  of  his  money  that  there  was  not  room  enough 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  227 

for  the  blood  in  it.  If  Alister  had  had  land  and 
sheep  like  himself,  he  would  have  had  no  objection 
to  giving  him  Mary ;  but  a  poor  son-in-law,  however 
good  he  might  be,  would  make  him  feel  poor,  whereas 
a  rich  son-in-law,  if  he  were  nothing  but  an  old 
miser,  would  make  him  feel  rich !  He  told  Alister, 
therefore,  that  he  had  nothing  to  say  to  him,  and  he 
and  Mary  must  have  nothing  to  say  to  each  other. 
Mary  felt  obliged  to  do  what  her  father  told  her,  but 
in  her  heart  she  did  not  give  up  Alister,  and  felt  sure 
Alister  did  not  give  up  her,  for  he  was  a  brave  and 
honest  youth. 

"Of  course  Alister  was  always  wanting  to  see 
Mary,  and  often  he  saw  her  when  nobody,  not  even 
Mary  herself,  knew  it.  One  day  she  was  out  rather 
late  on  the  hill,  and  when  the  gloaming  came  down, 
sat  wishing  in  her  heart  that  out  of  it  Alister  would 
come,  that  she  might  see  him,  though  she  would  not 
speak  to  him.  She  was  sitting  on  a  stone,  Grizzie 
says,  with  the  gloamin'  coming  down  like  a  gray 
frost  about  her ;  and  by  the  time  it  grew  to  a  black 
frost,  out  of  it  came  some  one  running  towards 
her. 

"  But  it  was  not  Alister  ;  it  was  a  farmer  who  wanted 
to  marry  her.  He  was  a  big,  strong  man,  rich  and 
good-looking,  though  twice  Mary's  age.  Her  father 
was  very  friendly  to  him.  But  people  said  he  was  a 
coward. 

"  Now  just  at  that  time,  only  it  had  not  yet  reached 
the  glen,  a  terrible  story  was  going  about  the  coun- 
try, of  a  beast  in  the  hills,  that  went  biting  every 
living  thing  he  could  get  at,   ?jid  whatever  he   bit 


228  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

went  raving-mad.  He  never  ate  any  creature  he  at- 
tacked, never  staid  to  kill  it,  but  just  came  up  with  a 
rush,  bit  it,  and  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment.  It 
was  generally  in  the  twilight  he  came.  He  appeared 
—  nobody  ever  saw  from  where  —  made  his  gnash, 
and  was  gone.  There  was  great  terror  and  dismay 
wherever  the  story  was  heard,  so  that  people  would 
hardly  venture  across  their  thresholds  after  sun-down, 
for  terror  lest  the  beast  should  dash  out  of  the  bor- 
ders of  the  dark  upon  them,  and  leave  his  madness 
in  them.  Some  said  it  was  a  sheep-dog,  but  some 
who  thought  they  had  seen  it,  said  it  was  too  large 
for  any  collie,  and  was,  they  believed,  a  mad  wolf ; 
for  though  there  are  no  wolves  in  Scotland  now,  my 
lady,  there  were  at  one  time,  and  this  is  a  very  old  story." 

Lady  Joan  gaped  audibly. 

"  I  am  wearying  you,  my  lady !  "  said  Cosmo,  pen- 
itently. 

"No,  no!  dear  boy,"  answered  Lady  Joan,  sorry, 
and  a  little  ashamed.  "  It  is  only  that  I  am  very- 
weary.     I  think  the  cold  tires  one." 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  rest  another  time,"  said  Cosmo 
cheerily.  "You  must  lie  down  on  the  sofa,  and  I 
will  cover  you  up  warm." 

"  No,  no ;  please  go  on.  Indeed  I  want  to  hear 
the  rest  of  it." 

"Well,"  resumed  Cosmo,  "the  news  of  this  wolf, 
or  whatever  it  was,  had  come  to  the  ears  of  the  far- 
mer for  the  first  time  that  day  at  a  fair,  and  he  was 
hurrying  home  with  his  head  and  his  heart  and  his 
heels  full  of  it,  when  he  saw  Mary  sitting  on  the 
white   stone   by  the  track,  feeling  as   safe  as  if  she 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  229 


were  in  paradise,  and  as  sad  as  if  she  were  in  purga- 
tory'. —  That's  how  Grizzie  tells  it  —  I  suppose  be- 
cause some  of  her  people  are  papists.  ^-  But,  for  as 
much  as  he  wanted  to  marry  her,  you  could  hardly 
say  he  was  in  love  with  her  —  could  you,  Lady  Joan  ? 
—  when  I  tell  you  that,  instead  of  stopping  and 
taking  her  and  her  sheep  home,  he  hurried  past  her, 
crying  out,  '  Gang  hame,  Mary.  There's  a  mad  beast 
on  the  hill.  Rin,  rin  —  a'  't  ye  can.  Never  min' 
yer  sheep.'  His  last  words  came  from  the  distance, 
for  he  never  stayed  a  step  while  he  spoke. 

"  Mary  got  up  at  once.  But  you  may  be  sure,  my 
lady,  a  girl  like  that  was  not  going  to  leave  her  sheep 
where  she  dared  not  stop  herself.  She  began  to 
gather  them  together  to  take  them  out  of  harm's  way, 
and  was  just  setting  out  with  them  for  home,  when  a 
creature  like  a  huge  dog  came  bounding  upon  her 
out  of  the  edge  of  the  night.  The  same  instant,  up 
from  behind  a  rock,  a  few  yards  away,  jumped  Alis- 
ter,  and  made  at  the  beast  with  his  crook ;  and  just 
as  the  wolf  was  upon  Mary,  for  Alister  was  not  near 
enough  to  get  between  the  beast  and  her,  he  heaved 
a  great  blow  at  him,  which  would  have  knocked  him 
down  anyhow.  But  that  instant  Mary  threw  herself 
towards  Alister,  and  his  terrible  blow  came  down 
upon  her,  and  not  upon  the  wolf,  and  she  fell  dead 
in  his  arms  —  that's  what  Grizzie  says  —  and  away 
went  the  wolf,  leaping  and  bounding,  and  never  utter- 
ing a  cry. 

"  What  Alister  did  next,  Grizzie  never  says  —  only 
that  he  came  staggering  up  to  her  father's  door  with 
dead  Mary  in  his  arms,  carried  her  in,  laid  her  on  the 


230  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARL^CK. 

bed,  and  went  out  again.  They  found  the  blow  on 
on  her  head,  and  when  they  undressed  her,  they 
found  also  the  bite  of  the  wolf ;  and  they  soon 
guessed  how  it  had  been,  and  said  it  was  well  she 
had  died  so,  for  it  was  much  better  than  going  mad 
first :  it  was  kind  of  Death,  they  said,  to  come  and 
snatch  her  away  out  of  the  arms  of  Madness.  But 
the  farmer,  because  he  hated  Alister,  and  knew  that 
Alister  must  have  seen  him  running  away,  gave  it 
out,  that  he  himself  was  rushing  to  defend  Mary,  and 
that  the  blow  that  killed  her  was  meant  for  him. 
Nobody  however  believed  him. 

"  What  people  might  think,  was,  however,  a  mat- 
ter of  little  consequence  to  Alister,  for  from  that  day 
he  never  spoke  to  human  being,  never  slept  under  a 
roof.  He  left  his  shepherding,  and  gave  himself  to 
the  hunting  of  the  mad  wolf  :  such  a  creature  should 
not  be  allowed  to  live,  and  he  must  do  some  good 
thing  for  Mary's  sake.  Mary  was  so  good,  that  any 
good  thing  done  would  be  a  thing  done  for  her.  So 
he  followed  and  followed,  hunting  the  horrible  crea- 
ture to  destroy  him.  Some  said  he  lived  on  his  hate 
of  the  wolf,  and  never  ate  anything  at  all.  But  some 
of  the  people  on  the  hills,  when  they  heard  he  had 
been  seen,  set  out  of  their  doors  at  night  milk  and 
cakes  ;  and  in  the  morning,  sometimes,  they  would  be 
gone,  and  taken  as  if  by  a  human  being,  and  not 
an  animal. 

"  By  and  by  came  a  strange  story  abroad.  For  a 
certain  old  woman,  whom  some  called  a  witch,  and 
whom  all  allowed  to  have  the  second  sight,  told  that, 
one  night  late,  as  she  was  coming  home  from   her 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  23 1 

daughter's  house,  she  saw  Alister  lying  in  the  heather, 
and  another  sitting  with  him  ;  Alister  she  saw  plainly 
with  her  first  or  bodily  eyes  ;  but  with  her  second 
eyes,  in  which  lay  the  second  sight,  she  saw  his  head 
lying  on  a  woman's  lap  — and  that  woman  was  Mary, 
whom  he  had  killed.  He  was  fast  asleep,  and 
whether  he  knew  what  pillow  he  had,  she  could  not 
tell ;  but  she  saw  the  woman  as  plainly  as  if  with  her 
bodily  eyes,  —  only  with  the  difference  which  there 
always  was,  she  said,  and  which  she  did  not  know  how 
to  describe,  between  the  things  seen  by  the  one  pair 
of  eyes,  and  the  things  seen  by  the  other.  She  stood 
and  regarded  them  for  some  time,  but  neither  moved. 
It  was  in  the  twilight,  and  as  it  grew  darker  she  could 
see  Alister  less  and  less  clearly,  but  always  -Mary 
better  and  better  —  till  at  last  the  moon  rose,  and 
then  she  saw  Alister  again,  and  Mary  no  more.  But, 
through  the  moonlight,  three  times  she  heard  a  little 
moan,  half  very  glad,  and  half  a  little  sad. 

"  Now  the  people  had  mostly  a  horror  of  Alister, 
and  had  shunned  him  —  even  those  who  did  not  be- 
lieve him  to  blame  for  what  he  had  done  —  because 
of  his  having  killed  a  human  being,  one  made  like 
himself,  and  in  the  image  of  God ;  but  when  they 
heard  the  wise  woman's  story,  they  began  to  feel 
differently  towards  Alister,  and  to  look  askance  upon 
Mary's  father,  whose  unkindness  had  kept  them 
asunder.  They  said  now  it  had  all  come  through 
him,  and  that  God  had  sent  the  wolf  to  fetch  Mary, 
that  he  might  give  her  and  Alister  to  each  other  in 
spite  of  him  —  for  God  had  many  a  way  of  doing  a 
thing,  every  one  better  than  another. 


232  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

"But  that  did  not  help  Alister  to  find  the  wolf. 
The  winter  came,  however,  and  that  did  help  him, 
for  the  snow  let  him  see  the  trail,  and  follow  faster. 
The  wonder  was  that  the  animal,  being  mad,  lived  so 
long ;  but  some  said  that,  although  the  wolf  was  mad, 
he  was  not  mad  in  any  ordinary  way  —  if  he  had 
been,  he  would  indeed  have  been  dead  long  ago  ;  he 
was  a  wolf  into  which  an  evil  spirit  had  entered  ; 
and  had  he  been  a  domestic  animal,  or  one  for  the 
use  of  man,  he  would  immediately  have  destroyed 
himself ;  but,  being  a  wild  and  blood-thirsty  animal, 
he  went  on  very  much  like  his  natural  self,  without 
knowing  what  sort  of  a  fellow-tenant  he  had  with  him 
in  the  house. 

"  At  last,  one  morning  in  the  month  of  December, 
when  the  snow  lay  heavy  on  the  ground,  some  men 
came  upon  a  track  which  they  all  agreed  must  be  that 
of  the  wolf.  They  went  and  got  their  weapons,  and 
set  out  in  chase.  They  followed,  and  followed,  and 
better  than  followed,  and  the  trail  led  them  high  into 
the  hills,  wondering  much  at  the  huge  bounds  with 
which  the  beast  had  galloped  up  the  steepest  places. 
They  concluded  that  Alister  had  been  after  him,  and 
that  the  beast  knew  it,  and  had  made  for  the  most  in- 
accessible spot  he  was  acquainted  with.  They  came 
at  length  to  a  point  where  a  bare-foot  human  track 
joined  that  of  the  wolf  for  a  little  way,  and  after  that 
they  came  upon  it  again  and  again.  Up  and  up  the 
mountain  they  went  —  sometimes  losing  the  track 
from  the  great  springs  the  wolf  took  —  now  across  a 
great  chasm  which  they  had  to  go  round  the  head  of, 
now  up  the  face  of  a  rock  too  steep  for  the  snow  to 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  233 

lie  upon,  so  that  there  was  no  print  of  his  horrid 
feet. 

But  at  last,  almost  at  the  top  of  the  mountain,  they 
saw  before  them  two  dark  spots  in  a  little  hollow,  and 
when  they  reached  it,  there  was  the  wolf,  dead  in  a 
mass  of  frozen  blood  and  trampled  snow.  It  was  a 
huge,  gaunt,  gray,  meagre  carcass,  with  the  foam  fro- 
zen about  its  jaws,  and  stabbed  in  many  places,  which 
showed  the  fight  had  been  a  close  one.  All  the  snow 
was  beaten  about,  as  if  with  many  feet,  which  showed 
still  more  plainly  what  a  tussle  it  had  been.  A  little 
farther  on  lay  Alister,  as  if  asleep,  stretched  at  full 
length,  with  his  face  to  the  sky.  He  had  been  dead 
for  many  hours,  they  thought,  but  the  smile  had  not 
faded  which  his  spirit  left  behind  as  it  went.  All 
about  his  body  were  the  marks  of  the  brute's  teeth  — 
everywhere  almost  except  on  his  face.  That  had  been 
bespattered  with  blood,  but  it  had  been  wiped  away. 
His  dirk  w^as  lying  not  far  off,  and  his  skene  dhu  close 
by  his  hand. 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  more  —  and  I  think  that 
is  just  the  thing  that  made  me  want  to  tell  you  the 
.story.  The  men  who  found  Alister  declared  when 
they  came  home,  and  ever  after  when  they  told  the 
story  —  Grizzle  says  her  grandmother  used  always  to 
say  so  —  that,  when  they  lifted  him  to  bring  him  away, 
they  saw  in  the  snow  the  mark  of  the  body,  deep- 
pressed,  but  only  as  far  as  the  shoulders ;  there  was 
no  mark  of  his  head  whatever.  And  when  they  told 
this  to  the  wise  woman,  she  answered  only,  *  Of  coorse ! 
of  coorse !  —  Gien  I  had  been  wi'  ye,  lads,  I  wad  hae 
seen  main'     When  they  pressed  her  to  speak  more 


234  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK 

plainly,  she  only  shook  her  head,  and  muttered, '  Dull- 
hertit  gov/ks  ! '  —  That's  all,  my  lady." 

In  the  kitchen,  things  were  going  on  even  more 
quietly  than  in  the  drawing-room.  In  front  of  the 
fire  sat  the  English  lord  over  his  wine ;  Mistress 
Warlock  sat  in  her  arm-chair,  knitting  and  dozing  — 
between  her  evanescent  naps  wide  awake,  and  ever 
and  anon  sliding  her  eyes  from  the  stocking  which 
did  not  need  her  attention  to  the  guest  who  little  de- 
sired it;  the  laird  had  taken  his  place  at  the  other 
corner,  and  was  reading  the  Journal  of  George  Fox ; 
and  Grizzle  was  bustling  about  with  less  noise  than 
she  liked,  and  wishing  heartily  she  were  free  of  his 
lordship,  that  she  might  get  on  with  her  work. 
Scarcely  a  word  was  spoken. 

It  began  to  grow  dark ;  the  lid  of  the  night  was 
closing  upon  them  ere  half  a,  summer-day  would 
have  been  over.  But  it  mattered  little  :  the  snow 
had  stayed  the  work  of  the  world.  Grizzle  put  on 
the  kettle  for  her  mistress's  tea.  The  old  lady 
turned  her  forty  winks  into  four  hundred,  and  slept 
outright,  curtained  in  the  shadows.  All  at  once  his 
lordship  became  alive  to  the  fact  that  the  day  was 
gone,  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair,  poured  out  a 
bumper  of  claret,  drank  it  off  hurriedly,  and  hitched 
his  chair  a  little  nearer  to  the  fire.  His  hostess  saw 
these  movements  with  satisfaction  :  he  had  appeased 
her  personal  indignation,  but  her  soul  was  not  hos- 
pitable towards  him,  and  the  devil  in  her  was  grati- 
fied with  the  sight  of  his  discomposure :  she  hankered 
after  talion,  not  waited  on  penitence.  Her  eyes 
sought  those  of  Grizzle. 


THROUGH    THE   DAY.  235 

"Gang  to  the  door,  Grizzle,"  she  said,  "an'  see 
what  the  nicht's  like.  I'm  thinkin'  by  the  cry  o'  the 
win',  it  '11  be  a  wuU  mirk  again.  —  What  think  ye, 
laird .?  " 

Her  son  looked  up  from  his  book,  where  he  had 
been  beholding  a  large  breadth  of  light  on  the  spir- 
itual sky,  and  answered,  somewhat  abstractedly, 
but  with  the  gentle  politeness  he  always  showed  her. 

*'  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  came  on  to  snow  again !  " 
Lord  Mergwain  shifted  uneasily.  Grizzle  returned 
from  her  inspection  of  the  weather. 

"  It's  black  theroot,  an'  dingin'  'oot,  wi'  great  thuds 
o'  win',"  she  said,  quite  unaware  as  usual  of  the  style 
of  her  utterance. 

"  God  bless  me  !  "  murmured  his  lordship,  "  what 
an  abominable  country  !  " 

"  Had  we  not  better  go  to  the  drawing-room,  my 
lord  .?  "  said  the  laird.  "  I  think,  Grizzle,"  he  went 
on,  "you  must  get  supper  early.  —  And,  Grizzle,"  he 
added,  rising,  "  mind  you  bring  Lady  Joan  a  cup  of 
tea — if  your  mistress  will  excuse  her,"  he  concluded, 
with  a  glance  to  his  mother. 

Mistress  Warlock  was  longing  for  a  talk  with 
Grizzle,  and  had  no  wish  for  Lady  Joan's  presence  at 
tea. 

"  An  old  woman  is  bare  company  for  a  young  one, 
Cosmo,"  she  said. 

His  lordship  sat  as  if  he  did  not  mean  to  move. 

"  Will  you  not  come.  Lord  Mergwain .? "  said  the 
laird.  "  We  had  better  go  before  the  night  gets 
worse." 

"I  will  stay  where  I  am." 


236  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Excuse  me,  my  lord,  that  can  hardly  be.  Come, 
I  will  carry  your  wine.  You  will  finish  your  bottle 
more  at  your  ease  there,  knowing  you  have  not  to 
move  again." 

"  The  bottle  is  empty,"  replied  his  lordship,  gruffly, 
as  if  reproaching  his  host  for  not  being  aware  of  the 
fact,  and  having  another  at  hand  to  follow. 

"Then  —  "  said  the  laird,  and  hesitated. 

"  Then  you'll  fetch  me  another  !  "  adjoined  hii 
lordship,  as  if  answering  an  unpropounded  question 
that  ought  not  to  be  put.  Seeing,  however,  that  the 
laird  stood  in  some  hesitation  still,  he  added  defini- 
tively, "  I  don't  stir  a  peg  without  it.  Get  me  an- 
other bottle  —  another  magnum,  I  mean,  and  I  will 
go  at  once." 

Yet  a  moment  the  laird  reflected.  He  said  to 
himself  that  the  wretched  man  had  not  had  nearly  so 
much  to  drink  that  day  as  he  had  the-  day  before ; 
that  he  was  used  to  soaking,  and  a  great  diminution 
of  his  customary  quantity  might  in  its  way  be  danger- 
ous ;  and  that  anyhow  it  was  not  for  him  to  order  the 
regimen  of  a  passing  guest,  to  whom  first  of  all  he 
owed  hospitality. 

"  I  will  fetch  it,  my  lord,"  he  said,  and  disappeared 
in  the  milk-cellar,  from  which  a  steep  stone-stair  led 
down  to  the  ancient  dungeon. 

"The  maister's  gane  wantin'  a  licht,"  muttered 
Grizzie  ;  "  I  houp  he  winna  see  onything." 

It  was  an  enigmatical  utterance,  and  angered  Lord 
Mergwain. 

"  What  the  deuce  should  he  see,  when  he  has  got  to 
feel  his  way  with  his  hands  ? "  he  snarled. 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  237. 

"There's  some  things,  my  lord,  'at  can  better 
affoord  to  come  oot  i'  the  dark  nor  the  licht,"  replied 
Grizzie. 

His  lordship  said  nothing  in  rejoinder,  but  kept 
looking  every  now  and  then  towards  the  door  of  the 
milk-cellar  —  whether  solely  in  anxiety  for  the  appear- 
ance of  the  magnum,  may  be  doubtful.  The  moment 
the  laird  emerged  from  his  dive  into  darkness,  bear- 
ing with  him  the  pearl-oyster  of  its  deep,  his  lordship 
rose,  proud  that  for  an  old  man  he  could  stand  so 
steady,  and  straightened  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 
which  was  not  great.  The  laird  set  down  the  bottle 
on  the  table,  and  proceeded  to  wrap  him  in  a  plaid, 
that  he  might  not  get  a  chill,  nor  heeded  that  his 
lordship,  instead  of  showing  recognition  of  his  care, 
conducted  himself  like  an  ill-conditioned  child,  to 
whom  his  mother's  ministrations  are  unwelcome. 
But  he  did  not  resist,  he  only  grumbled.  As  soon  as 
the  process  was  finished,  he  caught  up  the  first  bottle, 
in  which,  notwithstanding  his  assertion,  he  knew  there 
was  yet  a  glass  or  two,  while  the  laird  resumed  the 
greater  burden  of  the  second,  and  gave  his  guest  an 
arm,  and  Grizzie,  leaving  the  door  open  to  cast  a  little 
light  on  their  way,  followed  close  behind,  to  see  them 
safe  in. 

When  they  reached  the  drawing-room,  his  lordship 
out  of  breath  with  the  long  stair,  they  found  Lady 
Joan  teaching  and  Cosmo  learning  backgammon, 
which  they  immediately  abandoned  until  they  had 
him  in  his  former  chair,  with  a  small  table  by  him,  on 
it  the  first  bottle,  and  the  fresh  one  at  his  feet  before 
the  fire  :    with  the  contents  of  one  such  inside  him, 


238  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  another  coming  on,  he  looked  more  cheerful  than 
since  first  he  entered  the  house.  But  a  fluctuating 
trouble  was  very  visible  in  his  countenance  notwith- 
standing. 

A  few  poverty-stricken  attempts  at  conversation 
followed,  to  which  Lord  Mergwain  contributed  noth- 
ing. Lost  in  himself,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ripening  bottle,  waiting  with  heroic  self-denial,  nor 
uttering  a  single  audible  oath,  until  the  sound  of  its 
opening  should  herald  the  outbursting  blossom  of 
the  nightly  flower  of  existence.  The  thing  hard  to 
bear  was,  that  there  were  no  fresh  wine-glasses  on  the 
table  —  only  the  one  he  had  taken  care  to  bring  with 
the  old  bottle. 

Presently  Grizzle  came  with  the  tea-things,  and  as 
she  set  them  down,  remarked,  with  cunningly  devised 
look  of  unconsciousness : 

"  It's  a  gurly  nicht ;  no  a  pinch  o'  licht ;  an'  the 
win'  blawin'  like  deevils ;  the  Pooer  o'  the  air,  he's 
oot  wi'  a  rair,  an'  the  snaw  rins  roon'  upo'  sweevils." 

What  do  you  mean,  woman  ?  Would  you  drive 
me  mad  with  your  gibberish  ?  "  cried  his  lordship,  get- 
ting up,  and  going  to  the  window. 

"Ow,  na,  'my  lord!"  returned  Grizzle  quietly; 
"mad's  mad,  but  there's  waur  nor  mad." 

"  Grizzle  !  "  said  the  laird,  and  she  did  not  speak 
again. 

Lurking  in  Grizzle  was  the  suspicion,  less  than  la- 
tent in  the  minds  of  the  few  who  had  any  memory  of 
the  old  captain,  that  he  had  been  robbed  as  well  as 
murdered — though  nothing  had  ever  been  missed  that 
was  known  to  belong  to  him,  except  indeed  an  odd 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  239 

walking-Stick  he  used  to  carry;  and  if  so,  then  the 
property,  whatever  it  was,  had  been  taken  to  the  loss 
of  his  rightful  heir.  Warlock  o'  Glenwarlock.  Hence . 
mainly  arose  Grizzle's  desire  to  play  upon  the  fears 
of  the  English  lord ;  for  might  he  not  be  driven  by 
terror  to  make  restitution  ?  Therefore,  although,  obe- 
dient to  the  will  of  her  master,  she  left  the  room  in 
silence,  she  cast  on  the  old  man,  as  she  turned  away, 
a  look,  which,  in  spite  of  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  and 
the  wine  he  hoped  to  drink,  he  felt  freeze  his  very 
vitals  —  a  look  it  was  of  inexplicable  triumph,  and  in- 
articulate doom. 

The  final  effect  of  it  on  her  victim,  however,  was 
different  from  what  she  intended.  For  it  roused  sus- 
picion. What  if,  he  thought  with  himself,  he  was  the 
victim  of  a  conspiracy  ?  What  if  the  something  fright- 
ful that  befell  him  the  night  before,  of  which  he  had 
but  a  vague  recollection,  had  been  contrived  and  exe- 
cuted by  the  people  of  the  house  ?  This  horrible  old 
hag  might  remember  else-forgotten  things  ?  What  if 
they  had  drugged  his  wine  .?  the  first  half  of  the  bot- 
tle he  had  yesterday  was  decanted  !  — But  the  one  he 
had  just  drunk  had  not  been  touched  !  and  this  fresh 
one  before  the  fire  should  not  be  carried  from  his 
sight !  he  would  not  take  his  eyes  off  it  for  a  moment ! 
he  was  safe  so  far  as  these  were   concerned  !   only 

if  after  all if  there  should  be  no  difference  — 

—  if  something  were  to  happen  again  all  the  same  — 
ah,  then  indeed  !  —  then  it  would  only  be  so  much  the 
worse  !  —  Better  let  them  decant  the  bottle,  and  then 
he  would  have  the  drug  to  fall  back  upon  ! 

Just  as  he  heard. the  loud  bang  of  Grizzle's  clos- 


240         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

ure  of  the  great  door,  the  wind  rushed  all  at  once 
against'  the  house,  with  a  tremendous  bellow,  that 
threatened  to  drive  the  windows  into  the  room.  *  An 
immediate  lull  followed,  through  which  as  instantly 
came  strange  sounds,  as  of  a  distant  staccato  thun- 
der. The  moment  the  laird  heard  the  douf  thuds,  he 
started  to  his  feet,  and  made  for  the  door,  and  Cosmo 
rose  to  follow. 

"  Stop  !  stop  ! "  shouted  Lord  Mergwain,  in  a  quav- 
ering, yet,  through  terror,  imperative  voice,  and 
looked  as  if  his  hair  would  have  stood  on  end,  only 
that  it  was  a  wig. 

Lady  Joan  gave  Cosmo  a  glance  of  entreaty :  the 
shout  was  ineffectual,  the  glance  was  not.  The 
laird  scarcely  heard  his  visitor's  cry,  and  hastened 
from  the  room,  taking  huge  strides  with  his  long  thin 
legs ;  but  Cosmo  resumed  his  seat  as  if  nothing  were 
the  matter. 

Lord  Mergwain  was  trembling  visibly ;  his  jaw 
shook,  and  seemed  ready  to  drop. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  lord,"  said  Cosmo  ;  "  it  is 
only  one  of  the  horses  kicking  against  his  stall." 

"  But  why  should  the  brute  kick  ?  "  said  his  lord- 
ship, putting  his  hand  to  his  chin,  and  doing  his  best 
to  hide  his  agitation. 

"  My  father  will  tell  us.  He  will  soon  set  things 
right.  He  knows  all  about  horses.  Jolly  may  have 
thrown  his  leg  over  his  halter,  and  got  furious.  He's 
rather  an  ill-tempered  horse." 

Lord  Mergwain  swallowed  a  great  glass  of  wine, 
the  last  of  the  first  bottle,  and  gave  a  little  shiver. 

"  It's  cold  !  cold  !  "  he  said. 


THROUGH   THE    DAY.  24I 

The  wine  did  not  seem  to  be  itself  somehow  this 
evening ! 

The  game  interrupted,  Lady  Joan  forgot  it,  and 
stared  into  the  fire.  Cosmo  gave  his  eyes  a  glorious 
holiday  on  her  beautiful  face. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  laird  returned.  He 
brought  the  news  that  one  of  the  strange  horses  was 
very  ill. 

"I  thought  he  looked  bad  this  morning,"  said 
Cosmo. 

"  Only  it's  not  the  same  horse,  my  boy,"  answered 
his  father.  "  I  believe  he  has  been  ill  all  day ;  the 
state  of  the  other  has  prevented  its  being  noticed. 
He  was  taken  suddenly  with  violent  pain  ;  and  now 
he  lies  groaning.  They  are  doing  what  they  can  for 
him,  but  I  fear,  in  this  weather,  he  will  not  recover. 
Evidently  he  has  severe  inflammation  ;  the  symptoms 
are  those  of  the  worst  form  of  the  disease  now 
about." 

"  Hustled  here  in  the  dark  to  die  like  a  rat ! "  mut- 
tered his  lordship. 

"  Don't  make  a  trap  of  the  old  place,  my  lord,"  said 
the  laird  cheerily.  "  The  moment  the  roads  will  per- 
mit, I  will  see  that  you  have  horses." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you'll  be  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of 
me." 

"  We  shall  not  regret  your  departure  so  much,  my 
lord,  as  if  we  had  been  able  to  make  your  lordship 
comfortable,"  said  the  laird. 

With  that  there  came  another  great  howling  onset 
of  wind.  Lord  Mergwain  started  almost  to  his  feet, 
but  sat  down  instantly,  and  said  with  some  calmness, 


242  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  I  should  be  obliged,  Mr.  Warlock,  if  you  would 
order  a  wine-glass  or  two  for  me.  I  am  troublesome, 
I  know,  but  I  like  to  change  my  glass ;  and  the  wine 
will  be  the  worse  every  moment  more  it  stands  there. 
—  I  wish  you  would  drink  !  We  should  make  a  night 
of  it." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord,"  said  the  laird. 
"  What  was  I  thinking  of !  —  Cosmo,  run  and  fetch 
wine-glasses  —  and  the  cock-screw." 

But  while  Cosmo  was  returning,  he  heard  the  bat- 
tery of  iron  shoes  recommence,  and  ran  to  the  stable. 
Just  as  he  reached  the  door  of,  it,  the  horse  half 
reared,  and  cast  himself  against  the  side  of  his  stall. 
With  a  great  crash  it  gave  way,  and  he  fell  upon  it, 
and  lay  motionless. 

"  He's  deid ! "  cried  one  of  the  men,  and  Cosmo  ran 
to  tell  his  father. 

While  he  was  gone,  the  time  seemed  to  the  toper 
endless.  But  the  longer  he  could  be  kept  from  his 
second  magnum,  the  laird  thought  it  the  better,  and 
was  not  troubled  at  Cosmo's  delay. 

A  third  terrible  blast,  fiercer  and  more  imperious 
than  those  that  preceded  it,  shook  the  windows  as  a 
dog  shakes  a  rat :  the  house  itself  it  could  shake  no 
more  than  a  primeval  rock.  The  next  minute  Cosmo 
entered,  saying  the  horse  was  dead. 

"  What  a  beastly  country  !  "  growled  his  lordship. 

But  the  wine  that  was  presently  gurgling  from  the 
short  neck  of  the  apoplectic  magnum,  soon  began  to 
console  him.  He  liked  this  bottle  better  than  the 
last,  and  some  composure  returned  to  him. 

The   laird  fetched   a    book   of  old   ballads,   and 


THROUGH    THE    DAY.  243 

offered  to  read  one  or  two  to  make  the  time  pass. 
Lord  Mergwain  gave  a  scornful  grunt ;  but  Lady 
Joan  welcomed  the  proposal :  the  silent  worship  of 
the  boy,  again  at  her  feet,  was  not  enough  to  make 
her  less  than  very  weary.  For  more  than  an  hour, 
the  laird  read  ballad  after  ballad  ;  but  nobody,  not 
even  himself,  attended  much  —  the  old  lord  not  at 
all.  But  the  time  passed.  His  lordship  grew  sleepy, 
began  to  nod,  and  seemed  to  forget  his  wine.  At 
length  he  fell  asleep.  But  when  the  laird  would 
have  made  him  more  comfortable,  with  a  yell  of 
defiance  he  started  to  his  feet  wide  awake.  Coming 
to  himself  at  once,  he  tried  to  laugh,  and  said  from  a 
child  he  had  been  furious  when  waked  suddenly. 
Then  he  settled  himself  in  the  chair,  and  fell  fast 
asleep. 

Still  the  night  wore  on,  and  supper-time  came. 
His  lordship  woke,  but  would  have  no  supper,  and 
took  to  his  bottle  again.  Lady  Joan  and  Cosmo 
went  to  the  kitchen,  and  the  laird  had  his  porridge 
brought  to  the  drawing-room. 

At  length  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed.  Lady  Joan 
retired.  The  laird  would  not  allow  Cosmo  to  sit  up 
another  night,  and  he  went  also.  The  lord  and  the 
laird  were  left  together,  the  one  again  asleep,  and 
dreaming  who  knows  what !  the  other  wide  awake, 
but  absorbed  in  the  story  of  a  man  whose  thoughts, 
fresh  from  above,  were  life  to  himself,  and  a  mockery 
to  his  generation. 


CHAPTER  XVTT. 


THAT   SAME    NIGHT. 


The  wind  had  now  risen  to  a  hurricane  —  a  rage  of 
swiftness.  The  house  was  like  a  rock  assaulted  by 
the  waves  of  an  ocean-tempest.  The  laird  had  closed 
all  the  shutters,  and  drawn  the  old  curtains  across 
them :  through  windows  and  shutters,  the  curtains 
waved  in  the  penetrating  blasts.  The  sturdy  old 
house  did  not  shake,  for  nothing  under  an  earthquake 
could  have  made  it  tremble.  The  snow  was  fast 
gathering  in  sloped  heaps  on  the  window-sills,  on  the 
frames,  on  every  smallest  ledge  where  it  could  lie. 
In  the  midst  of  the  blackness  and  the  roaring  wind, 
the  house  was  being  covered  with  spots  of  silent 
whiteness,  resting  on  every  projection,  every  rough- 
ness even,  of  the  building.  In  his  own  house  as  he 
was,  a  sense  of  fierce  desolation,  of  foreign  invasion 
and  siege,  took  possession  of  the  soul  of  the  laird. 
He  had  made  a  huge  fire,  and  had  heaped  up  beside 
it  great  store  of  fuel,  but,  though  his  body  was  warm 
and  likely  to  be  warm,  his  soul  inside  it  felt  the 
244 


THAT    SAME    NIGHT.  245 

ravaging  cold  outside  —  remorseless,  and  full  of 
mock,  the  ghastly  power  of  negation  and  unmaking. 
He  had  got  together  all  the  screens  he  could  find, 
and  with  them  inclosed  the  fireplace,  so  that  they  sat 
in  a  citadel  v/ithin  a  fortress.  By  the  fire  he  had 
placed  for  his  lordship  the  antique  brocade-covered 
sofa,  that  he  might  lie  down  when  he  pleased,  and 
himself  occupied  the  great  chair  on  the  other  side. 
From  the  centre  of  this  fire-defended  heart,  the  room 
itself  outside  looked  cold  and  waste :  it  demanded 
almost  courage  to  leave  the  stockade  of  the  screens, 
and  venture  into  the  campaign  of  the  floor  beyond. 
And  then  the  hell  of  wind  and  snow  that  raved  out- 
side that !  and  the  desert  of  air  surrounding  it,  in 
which  the  clouds  that  garnered  the  snow  were  shaken 
by  mad  winds,  whirled  and  tossed  and  buffeted,  to 
make  them  yield  their  treasures  !  Lord  Mergwain 
heard  it,  and  drank.  The  laird  listened,  and  lifted 
up  his  heart.  Not  much  passed  between  them.  The 
memories  of  the  English  lord  were  not  such  as  he  felt 
it  fit  to  share  with  the  dull  old  Scotchman  beside 
him,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  world  —  knew  neither 
how  pitilessly  selfish,  nor  how  meanly  clever  a  man 
of  this  world  might  be,  and  bate  not  a  jot  of  his  self 
admiration !  Men  who  salute  a  neighbour  as  a  man 
of  the  world,  paying  him  the  greatest  compliment 
they  know  in  acknowledging  him  of  their  kind,  recoil 
with  a  sort  of  fear  from  the  man  alien  to  their  thoughts, 
and  impracticable  for  their  *  purposes.  They  say 
"  He  is  beyond  me,"  and  despise  him.  So  is  there  a 
great  world  beyond  them  with  which  they  hold  a 
frightful  relationship  —  that    of  unrecognized,    unat- 


246  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

tempted  duty !  Lord  Mergwain  regarded  the  odd- 
looking  laird  as  a  fool ;  the  laird  looked  on  him  with 
something  of  the  pity  an  angel  must  feel  for  the 
wretch  tq  whom  he  is  sent  to  give  his  last  chance,  ere 
sorer  measures  be  taken  in  which  angels  are  not  the 
ministers. 

But  the  wine  was  at  last  beginning  to  work  its  too 
oft  repeated  and  now  nearly  exhausted  influence  on 
the  sagging  and  much  frayed  nerves  of  the  old  man. 
A  yellowish  remnant  of  withered  rose  began  to  smear 
his  far-off  west :  he  dared  not  look  to  the  east ;  that 
lay  terribly  cold  and  gray ;  and  he  smiled  with  a  little 
curl  of  his  lip  now  and  then,  as  he  thought  of  this 
and  that  advantage  he  had  had  in  the  game  of  life, 
for  alas  !  it  had  never  with  him  risen  to  the  dignity 
of  a  battle.  He  was  a?  proud  of  a  successful  ruse, 
as  a  hero  of  a  well  fought  and  well  won  field.  "  I 
had  him  there  ! "  stood  with  him  for  the  joy  of  work 
done  and  salvation  wrought.  It  was  a  repulsive 
smile  —  one  that  might  move  even  to  hatred  the  on- 
looker who  was  not  yet  divine  enough  to  let  the  out- 
rushing  waves  of  pity,  swamp  his  human  judgment. 
It  only  curled  the  cruel-looking  upper  lip,  while  the 
lower  continued  to  hang  thick,  and  sensual,  and 
drawn  into  a  protuberance  in  the  middle. 

Gradually  he  seemed  to  himself,  as  he  drank,  to  be 
recovering  the  common  sense  of  his  self-vaunted,  vig- 
orous nature.  He  assured  himself  that  now  he  saw 
plainly  the  truth  and  fact  of  things  —  that  his  present 
outlook  and  vision  were  the  true,  and  the  horrors  of 
the  foregone  night  the  weak  soul-gnawing  fancies  bred 
of  a  disordered  stomach.     He  was  a  man  once  more, 


THAT    SAME    NIGHT.  247 

and   beyond    the    sport    of    a    foolish    imagination. 

Alas  for  the  man  who  draws  his  courage  from  wine ! 
the  same  alas  for  the  man  whose  health  is  its  buttress ! 
the  touch  of  a  pin  on  this  or  that  spot  of  his  mortal 
house,  will  change  him  from  a  leader  of  armies,  or  a 
hunter  of  tigers  in  the  jungle,  to  one  who  shudders  at 
a  centipede !  That  courage  also  which  is  mere  in- 
sensibility crumbles  at  once  before  any  object  of  ter- 
ror able  to  stir  the  sluggish  imagination.  There  is  a 
fear,  this  for  one,  that  for  another,  which  can  appall 
the  stoutest  who  is  not  one  with  the  essential. 

Lord  Mergwain  emerged  from  the  influence  of  his 
imagination  and  his  fears,  and  went  under  that  of  his 
senses  and  himself.  He  took  his  place  beside  the 
Christian  in  his  low,  common  moods,  when  the  world, 
with  its  laws  and  its  material  insistence,  presses  upon 
him,  and  he  does  not  believe  that  God  cares  for  the 
sparrow,  or  can  possibly  count  the  hairs  of  his  head  ; 
when  the  divine  power,  and  rule,  and  means  to  help, 
seem  nowhere  but  in  a  passed-away  fancy  of  the  hour 
of  prayer.  Only  the  Christian  is  then  miserable,  and 
Lord  Mergwain  was  relieved ;  for  did  he  not  then 
come  to  himself  ?  and  did  he  know  anything  better  to 
arrive  at  than  just  that  wretched  self  of  his  ? 

A  glass  or  two  more,  and  he  laughed  at  the  terror 
by  night.  He  had  been  a  thorough  fool  not  to  go  to 
bed  like  other  people,  instead  of  sitting  by  the  fire 
with  a  porridge-eating  Scotchman,  who  regarded  him 
as  one  of  the  wicked,  afraid  of  the  darkness.  The 
thought  may  have  passed  from  his  mind  to  that  of  his 
host,  for  the  self-same  moment  the  laird  spoke  : 


248  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  had  better  go  to  bed  when 
you  have  finished  your  bottle,  my  lord  ?  " 

With  the  words,  a  cold  swell,  as  from  the  returning 
tide  of  some  dead  sea,  so  long  ebbed  that  men  had 
ploughed  and  sown  and  built  within  its  bed,  stole  in, 
swift  and  black,  filling  every  cranny  of  the  old  man's 
conscious  being. 

"  My  God ! "  he  cried ;  "  I  thought  better  of  you  than 
that,  laird  !  I  took  you  for  a  man  of  your  word  ! 
You  promised  to  sit  up  with  me  ! " 

"  I  did,  my  lord,  and  am  ready  to  keep  my  promise. 
I  only  thought  you  looked  as  if  you  might  have 
changed  your  mind  ;  and  in  such  a  night  as  this,  be- 
yond a  doubt,  bed  is  the  best  place  for  everybody  that 
has  got  one  to  go  to." 

"  That  depends,"  answered  his  lordship,  and  drank. 

The  laird  held  his  peace  for  a  time,  then  spoke 
again : 

"  Would  your  lordship  think  me  rude  if  I  were  to 
take  a  book  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  a  noise.  It  don't  go  well  with  old 
wine  like  this  :  such  wine  wants  attention  !  It  would 
spoil  it.     No,  thank  you." 

"  I  did  not  propose  to  read  aloud,  my  lord  —  only, 
to  myself." 

"  Oh  !  That  alters  the  matter  !  That  I  would  by 
no  means  object  to.     I  am  but  poor  company  !  " 

The  laird  got  his  "  Journal,"  and  was  soon  lost  in 
the  communion  of  a  kindred  soul. 

By  and  by,  the  boat  of  his  lordship's  brain  was 
again  drifting  towards  the  side  of  such  imagination  as 
was   in  him.     The   half-tide   restoring   the   physical 


THAT   SAME    NIGHT.  249 

mean  was  past,  and  intoxication  was  setting  in.  He 
began  to  cast  uneasy  glances  towards  the  book  the 
laird  was  reading.  The  old  folio  had  a  look  of  ven- 
erable significance  about  it,  and  whether  it  called  up 
some  association  of  childhood,  concerned  in  some 
fearful  fancy,  or  dreamfully  he  dreaded  the  necro- 
mancer's art,  suggested  by  late  experience,  made  him 
uneasy. 

"What's  that  you  are  reading  ?  "  he  said  at  length. 
"  It  looks  like  a  book  of  magic." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  replied  the  laird,  "  it  is  a  re- 
ligious book  of  the  very  best  sort." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  Ah  !  I  have  no  objection  to  a  little 
religion  —  in  its  own  place.  There  it  is  all  right.  I 
never  was  one  of  those  mockers  —  those  Jacobins, 
those  sans-culottes  !  Arrogant  fools  they  always 
seemed  to  me  !  " 

"Would  your  lordship  like  to  hear  a  little  of  the 
book,  then  ? " 

"  No,  no  ;  by  no  means  !  Things  sacred  ought  not 
to  be  mixed  up  with  things  common — with  such  an  un- 
common bottle  of  wine,  for  instance.  I  dictate  to  no 
one,  but  for  my  own  part  I  keep  my  religion  for 
church.  That  is  the  proper  place  for  it,  and  there 
you  are  in  the  mood  for  it.  Do  not  mistake  me ;  it  is 
out  of  respect  I  decline." 

He  drank,  and  the  laird  dropt  back  into  the  depths 
of  his  volume.  The  night  wore  on.  His  lordship  did 
not  drink  fast.  There  was  no  hope  of  another  bottle, 
and  the  wine  must  cover  the  period  of  his  necessity : 
he  dared  not  encounter  the  night  without  the  sustain- 
ing knowledge  of  its  presence.     At  last  he  began  to 


250         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

nod,  and  by  slow  degrees  sank  on  the  sofa.  Very 
softly  the  laird  covered  him,  and  went  back  to  his 
book. 

The  storm  went  raging  on,  as  if  it  would  never 
cease.  The  sense  of  desolation  it  produced  in  the 
heart  of  the  laird  when  he  listened  to  it  was  such,  that 
with  an  inward  shudder  he  closed  his  mind  against  it, 
and  gave  all  his  attention  to  George  Fox,  and  the 
thoughts  he  roused.  The  minutes  crawled  slowly 
along.  He  lost  all  measure  of  time,  because  he  read 
with  delight,  and  at  last  he  found  himself  invaded  by 
that  soft  physical  peace  which  heralds  the  approach 
of  sleep.  He  roused  himself ;  he  wanted  to  read :  he 
was  in  one  of  the  most  interesting  passages  he  had 
yet  come  to.  But  presently  the  sweet  enemy  was 
again  within  his  outworks.  Once  more  he  roused 
himself,  heard  the  storm  raving  on  —  over  buried 
graves  and  curtained  beds,  heedless  of  human  heed- 
ing —  fell  a-listening  to  its  shriek-broken  roar,  and  so 
into  a  soundless  and  dreamless  sleep. 

He  woke  so  suddenly  that  for  a  moment  he  knew 
himself  only  for  somebody  he  knew.  There  lay  upon 
him  the  weight  of  an  indefinable  oppression  —  the 
horror  of  a  darkness  too  vague  to  be  combated.  The 
fire  had  burned  low,  and  his  very  bones  seemed  to 
shiver.  The  candle-flames  were  down  in  the  sockets 
of  the  candlesticks,  and  the  voice  of  the  storm  was 
like  a  scream  of  victory.  Had  the  cold  then  won  its 
way  into  the  house  ?  Was  it  having  its  deathly  will 
of  them  all  ?  He  cast  his  eyes  on  his  guest.  Sleep- 
ing still,  he  half  lay,  half  leaned  in  the  cofner  of  the 
sofa,  breathing  heavily.     His  face  was  not  to  be  well 


THAT    SAME    NIGHT.  25 1 

seen,  because  of  the  flapping  and  flickering  of  the 
candle-flames,  and  the  shadows  they  sent  waving  huge 
over  all,  like  the  flaunting  of  a  black  flag.  Through 
the  flicker  and  the  shadow  the  laird  was  still  peering 
at  him,  when  suddenly,  without  opening  his  eyes,  the 
old  man  raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture  —  all  of  a 
piece,  like  a  figure  of  wood  lifted  from  behind.  The 
laird  then  saw  his  face,  and  upon  it  the  expression  as 
of  one  suffering  from  some  horrible  nightmare  —  so 
terrified  was  it,  so  wrathful,  so  disgusted,  all  in  one  — 
and  rose  in  haste  to  rouse  him  from  a  drunken  dream. 
But  ere  he  reached  him  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  his 
expression  changed  —  not  to  one  of  relief,  but  to 
utter  collapse,  as  if  the  sleep-dulled  horrors  of  the 
dream  had  but  grown  real  to  him  as  he  woke.  His 
under  lip  trembled  like  a  dry  yellow  leaf  in  a  small 
wind  ;  his  right  arm  rose  slowly  from  the  shoulder 
and  stuck  straight  out  in  the  direction  of  his  host, 
while  his  hand  hung  from  the  wrist ;  and  he  stared  as 
upon  one  loosed  from  hell  to  speak  of  horrors.  But 
it  did  not  seem  to  the  laird  that,  although  turned 
straight  towards  him,  his  eyes  rested  on  him ;  they 
did  not  appear  to  be  focused  for  him,  but  for  some- 
thing beyond  him.  It  was  like  the  stare  of  one  de- 
mented, and  it  invaded  —  possessed  the  laird.  A 
physical  terror  seized  him.  He  felt  his  gaze  return- 
ing that  of  the  man  before  him,  like  to  like,  as  from  a 
mirror.  He  felt  the  skin  of  his  head  contracting; 
his  hair  was  about  to  stand  on  end !  The  spell  must 
be  broken !  He  forced  himself  forward  a  step  to  lay 
his  hand  on  Lord  Mergwain,  and  bring  him  to  him- 
self.    But  his  lordship  uttered  a  terrible  cry,  betwixt 


252  WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

a  scream  and  a  yell,  and  sank  back  on  the  sofa.  The 
same  instant  the  laird  was  himself  again,  and  sprang 
to  him. 

Lord  Mergwain  lay  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  and 
the  same  look  with  which  they  found  him  the  night 
before  prostrate  in  the  guest-chamber.  His.  arm 
stuck  straight  out  from  his  body.  The  laird  pressed 
it  down,  but  it  rose  again  as  soon  as  he  left  it.  He 
could  not  for  a  moment  doubt  the  man  was  dead; 
there  was  that  about  him  that  assured  him  of  it,  but 
what  it  was  he  could  not  have  told. 

The  first  thought  that  came  to  him  was,  that  his 
daughter  must  not  see  him  so.  He  tied  up  his  jaw, 
laid  him  straight  on  the  sofa,  lighted  fresh  candles, 
left  them  burning  by  the  dead,  and  went  to  call 
Grizzle :  a  doctor  was  out  of  the  question. 

He  felt  his  way  down  the  dark  stair,  and  fought  it 
through  the  wind  to  the  kitchen,  whence  he  climbed 
to  Grizzle's  room.  He  found  she  was  already  out  of 
bed,  and  putting  on  her  clothes.  She.  had  not  been 
asleep,  she  said,  and  added  something  obscure,  which 
the  laird  took  to  mean  that  she  had  been  expecting  a 
summons. 

"Whan  Ane's  oot,  there's,  nane  in!"  she  said. 
"  Hoo's  the  auld  reprobat.  laird  —  an'  I  beg  yer 
pardon  ? " 

"He's  gane  til's  accoont,  Grizzle,"  answered  the 
laird,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Say  ye  sae,  laird  ?  "  returned  Grizzle  with  perfect 
calmness.     "  Oh,  sirs  !  " 

Not  a  single  remark  did  she  then  offer.     If  she  was 


THAT    SAME    NIGHT.  253 

cool,  she  was  not  irreverent  before  the  thought  of  the 
awful  thing  that  Jay  waiting  her. 

"  Ye  winna  wauk  the  hoose,  will  ye,  sir  ?  "  she 
added  presently.  "  I  dinna  think  it  wad  be  ony 
service  to  died  or  livin'." 

"  I'll  no  du  that,  Grizzie ;  but  come  ye  an'  luik  at 
him,"  said  the  laird,  "  an'  tell  me  what  ye  think.  I 
makna  a  doobt  he's  deid,  but'  gien  ye  hae  ony,  we'll 
du  what  we  can ;  an'  we'll  sit  up  wi'  the  corp  the- 
gither,  an'  lat  yoong  an'  auld  tak  the  rist  they  hae 
mair  need  o'  nor  the  likes  o'  you  an'  me." 

It  was  a  proud  moment  in  Grizzle's  life,  one  never 
forgotten,  when  the  laird  addressed  her  thus.  She 
was  ready  in  a  moment,  and  they  went  together. 

"  The  prince  is  haein'  his  ain  w'y  the  nicht !  "  she 
murmured  to  herself,  as  they  bored  tlieir  w^ay  through 
the  wind  to  the  great  door. 

When  she  came  where  the  corpse  lay,  she  stood 
for  some  moments  looking  down  upon  it  without 
uttering  a  sound,  nor  was  there  any  emotion  in  the 
fixed  gaze  of  her  eye.  She  had  been  brought  up  in  a 
stern  and  nowise  pitiful  school.  She  made  neither 
solemn  reflection,  nor  uttered  hope  which  her  theol- 
ogy forbade  her  to  cherish. 

"Ye  think  wi'  me  'at  he's  deid  —  dinna  ye,  Griz- 
zie ? "  said  the  laird,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  to  himself 
to  intrude  on  the  solemn  silence. 

She  removed  the  handkerchief,  and  the  jaw  fell. 

"  He's  gane  til's  accoont,"  she  said.  "  It's  a  great 
amoont ;  an'  mair  on  ae  side  nor  he'll  weel  bide.  It's 
sair  eneuch,  laird,  whan  we  hae  to  gang  at  the  Lord's 
call,  but  whan   the  messenger  comes  frae  the  laich 


254         WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

yett  {low  gate),  we  maun  jist  lat  gang  an'  forget. 
But  sae  lang's  he's  a  man,  we  maun  do  what  we  can 
—  an'  that's  what  we  did  last  nicht ;  sae  I'll  rin  an* 
get  het  watter." 

She  did  so,  and  they  used  every  means  they  could 
think  of  for  his  recovery,  but  at  length  gave  it  up, 
heaped  him  over  with  blankets,  for  the  last  chance  of 
spontaneous  revival,  and  sitting  down,  awaited  the 
slow-travelling,  feeble  dawn. 

After  they  had  sat  in  silence  for  nearly  an  hour, 
the  laird  spoke : 

"  We'll  read  a  psalm  thegither.  Grizzle,"  he  said. 

"  Ay,  du  ye  that,  laird.  It  '11  hand  them  awa'  for 
the  time  bein',  though  it  can  profit  but  little  i'  the 
hin'er  en'." 

The  laird  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small,  much 
worn  bible  which  had  been  his  Marion's,  and  by  the 
body  of  the  dead  sinner,  in  the  heart  of  the  howling 
storm  and  the  waste  of  the  night,  his  voice,  trembling 
with  a  strange  emotion,  rose  upborne  upon  the  glori- 
ous words  of  the  ninety-first  psalm. 

When  he  ended,  they  were  aware  that  the  storm 
had  begun  to  yield,  and  by  slow  degrees  it  sank  as 
the  morning  came  on.  Till  the  first  faintest  glim- 
mer of  dawn  began  to  appear  nothing  more  was  said 
between  them.  But  then  Grizzle  rose  in  haste,  like 
one  that  had  overslept  herself,  and  said : 

"  I  maun  to  my  wark,  laird  —  what  think  ye  ?  " 

The  laird  rose  also,  and  by  a  common  impulse 
they  went  and  looked  at  the  corpse  —  for  corpse  it 
now  was,  beyond  all  question,  cold  as  the  snow  with- 
out.    After  a  brief,  low-voiced  conference,  they  pro- 


THAT    SAME    NIGHT.  255 

ceeded  to  carry  it  to  the  guest-chamber,  where  they 
laid  it  upon  the  bed,  and  when  Grizzie  had  done  all 
that  custom  required,  left  it  covered  with  a  sheet, 
dead  in  the  room  where  it  dared  not  sleep,  a  mound 
cold  and  white  as  any  snow-wreath  outside.  It 
looked  as  if  Winter  had  forced  his  way  into  the  house, 
and  left  this  one  drift,  in  signal  of  his  capture. 
Grizzie  went  about  her  duties,  and  the  laird  back  to 
his  book. 

A  great  awe  fell  upon  Cosmo  when  he  heard  what 
visit  and  what  departure  had  taken  place  in  the  midst 
of  the  storm  and  darkness.  Lady  Joan  turned  white 
as  the  dead,  and  spoke  not  a  word.  A  few  tears 
rolled  from  the  luminous  dark  of  her  eyes,  like  the 
dew  slow-gathering  in  a  night  of  stars,  but  she  was 
very  still.  The  bond  between  her  and  her  father  had 
not  been  a  pleasant  one;  she  had  not  towards  him 
that  reverence  which  so  grandly  heightens  love.  She 
had  loved  him  pitifully — perhaps,  dreadful  thought  I 
a  little  contemptuously.  The  laird  persuaded  her  not 
to  see  the  body ;  taking  every  charge  concerning  it. 

All  that  day  things  went  on  in  the  house  much  as 
usual,  with  a  little  more  silence  where  had  been  much. 
The  wind  lay  moveless  on  the  frozen  earth;  the  sun 
shone  cold  as  a  diamond ;  and  the  fresh  snow  glittered 
and  gleamed  and  sparkled  like  a  dead  sea  of  lightning. 

The  laird  was  just  thinking  which  of  his  men  to 
send  to  the  village,  when  the  door  opened  and  in 
came  Agnes.  Grannie  had  sent  her,  she  said,  to  en- 
quire after  them.  Grannie  had  had  a  troubled  night, 
and  the  moment  she  woke  began  to  talk  about  the 
laird,  and  his  visitors,  and  what  the  storm  must  have 


256  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

been  round  lonely  Castle  Warlock.  The  drifts  were 
tremendous,  she  said;  but  she  had  made  her  way 
withojut  much  difficulty.  So  the  laird,  partly  to  send 
Cosmo  from  the  house  of  death  into  the  world  of 
life,  told  him  to  go  with  Aggie,  and  give  directions  to 
the  cprpenter,  for  the  making  of  a  coffin. 

How  long  the  body  might  have  to  lie  with  them,  no 
one  could  tell,  for  the  storm  had  ceased  in  a  hard 
frost,  and  there  could  be  no  postal  communication  for 
many  days.  The  laird  judged  it  better,  therefore,  as 
soon  as  the  shell  arrived,  to  place  the  body  in  a  death- 
chapel  prepared  for  it  by  nature  herself.  With  their 
spades  he  and  Cosmo  fashioned  the  mound,  already 
hollowed  in  sport,  into  the  shape  of  a  hugh  sarcopha- 
gus, then  opened  wide  the  side  of  it,  to  receive  the 
coffin  as  into  a  sepulchre  in  a  rock.  The  men 
brought  it,  laid  it  in,  and  closed  the  entrance  again 
with  snow.  Where  Cosmo's  hollow  man  of  light  had 
shone,  lay  the  body  of  the  wicked  old  nobleman. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


A   WINTER    IDYLL. 


Lady  Joan  the  same  day  wrote  to  her  brother  Bor- 
land, now  Mergwain,  telling  him  what  had  taken  place. 
But  it  must  be  some  time  before  she  received  his  an- 
swer, for  the  post  from  England  reached  the  neigh- 
bouring city  but  intermittently,  and  was  there  alto- 
gether arrested,  so  far  as  Howglen  and  Muir  o'  Warlock 
were  concerned.  The  laird  told  her  she  must  have 
patience,  and  assured  her  that  to  them  her  presence 
was  welcome. 

And  now  began  for  Cosmo  an  episode  of  enchant- 
ment, as  wondrous  as  any  dream  of  tree-top,  or  sum- 
mer wave  city  —  for  if  it  was  not  so  full  of  lighter 
mar\^el  around,  it  had  at  the  heart  of  it  a  deeper  mar- 
vel, namely  a  live  and  beautiful  lady. 

She  was  a  girl  of  nearly  eighteen,  but  looked  older 
—  shapely,  strong,  and  graceful.  But  both  her  life- 
consciousness  and  her  spirits — in  some  only  do  the 
words  mean  the  same  thing — had  been  kept  down  by 
the  family  relations  in  which  she  found  herself.  Her 
257 


258  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

father  loved  her  with  what  love  was  in  him,  and  there- 
fore was  jealous ;  trusted,  and  therefore  enslaved  her; 
could  make  her  useful,  and  therefore  oppressed  her. 
Since  his  health  began  to  decline  he  would  go  no- 
where without  her,  though  he  spoke  seldom  a  pleas- 
ant, and  often  a  very  unpleasant  word  to  her.  He 
never  praised  her  to  her  face,  but  swore  deeply  to  her 
excellence  in  ears  that  cared  little  to  hear  of  it.  When 
at  home  she  must  always  be  within  his  reach,  if  not 
within  his  call;  but  he  was  far  from  slow  to  anger 
with  her,  and  she  dreaded  his  anger,  not  so  much 
from  love  or  fear  as  from  nicety,  because  of  the  ugly 
things  he  would  say  when  he  was  offended  with  her. 
One  hears  of  ruling  by  love  and  ruling  by  fear,  but 
this  man  ruled  by  disgust.  At  home  he  lived  much 
as  we  have  seen  him  in  the  house  of  another,  cared 
for  nobody's  comfort  but  his  own,  and  was  hard  to 
keep  in  good  humour — such  good  humour  as  was 
possible  to  him.  He  paid  no  attention  to  business  or 
management:  his  estates  had  long  been  under  trus- 
tees ;  lolled  about  in  his  room,  diverting  himself  with 
a  horrible  monkey  which  he  taught  ugly  tricks ;  drank 
almost  constantly;  and  would  throw  dice  by  himself 
for  an  hour  together — doing  what  he  could,  which 
was  little,  towards  the  poor  object  of  killing  Time. 
He  kept  a  poor  larder  but  a  rich  cellar ;  almost  al- 
ways without  money,  he  yet  contrived  to  hold  his  bins 
replenished,  and  that  from  the  farther  end :  he  might 
have  been  expecting  to  live  to  a  hundred  and  twenty 
for  of  visitors  he  had  none,  except  an  occasional  time 
belated  companion  of  his  youth,  whom  the  faint,  mud- 
dled memories  of  old  sins  would  bring  to  his  door, 


A    WINTER    IDYLL.  259 


when  they  would  spend  a  day  or  two  together,  soaking, 
and  telling  bad  stories,  at  times  hardly  restrained 
until  Joan  left  the  room  —  that  is,  if  her  brother  was 
not  present,  before  whom  her  father  was  on  his  good 
behaviour. 

The  old  man  was  in  bad  repute  with  the  neighbours, 
and  they  never  called  upon  him — which  they  would 
have  found  it  hard  to  justify,  seeing  some  who  were 
not  better  were  quite  respectable.  No  doubt  he  was 
the  dilapidated  old  reprobate  they  counted  him,  but  if 
he  had  not  made  himself  poor,  they  would  have  found 
his  morals  no  business  of  theirs.  They  pitied  the 
daughter,  or  at  least  spoke  pityingly  of  her,  but  could 
not  for  her  sake  countenance  the  father !  Neglect- 
ing their  duty  towards  her,  they  began  to  regard  her 
with  a  blame  which  was  the  shadow  of  their  neglect, 
thinking  of  her  as  defiled  in  her  father's  defilement. 
The  creeping  things  —  those  which  God  hath  not  yet 
cleansed — call  the  pure  things  unclean.  But  it  was 
better  to  be  so  judged  than  to  run  the  risk  of  growing 
after  the  pattern  of  her  judges.  I  suspect  the  man 
who  leads  a  dissolute,  and  the  man  who  leads  a  com- 
monly selfish  life,  will  land  from  the  great  jump  pretty 
nearly  in  the  same  spot.  What  if  those  who  have 
despised  each  the  other's  sins,  are  set  down  to  stare 
at  them  together,  until  each  finds  his  own  iniquity  to 
be  hateful. 

Of  the  latter,  the  respectably  selfish  class,  was  Bor- 
land her  brother.  He  knew  his  presence  a  protec- 
tion to  his  sister,  yet  gave  himself  no  trouble  to  look 
after  her.  As  the  apple  of  his  eye  would  he  cherish 
the  fluid  in  which  he  hoped  to  discover  some  secret 


26o  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

process  of  nature ;  but  he  was  not  his  sister's  keeper, 
and  a  drop  of  mud  more  or  less  cast  into  her  spirit 
was  to  him  of  no  consequence.  Yet  he  would  as  soon 
have  left  a  woman  he  wanted  to  marry  within  reach 
of  the  miasms  that  now  and  then  surrounded  Joan,  as 
unwarned  in  the  dark  by  the  cage  of  a  tiger. 

At  home,  therefore,  because  of  the  poverty  of  the 
family,  the  ill-repute  of  her  father,  and  the  pride  and 
self-withdrawal  of  her  brother,  she  led  a  lonely  life 
where  everything  around  her  was  left  to  run  wild. 
The  lawn  was  more  of  a  meadow  than  a  lawn,  and  the 
park  a  mere  pasture  for  cattle.  The  shrubbery  was 
an  impassable  tangle,  and  the  flower  garden  a  wilder- 
ness. She  could  do  nothing  to  set  things  right,  and 
lived  about  the  place  like  a  poor  relation.  At  school, 
which  she  left  at  fifteen,  she  had  learned  nothing  so 
as  to  be  of  any  vital  use  to  her — possibly  left  it  a 
little  less  capable  than  she  went.  For  some  of  her 
natural  perceptions  could  hardly  fail  to  be  blunted  by 
the  artificial,  false,  and  selfish  judgments  and  regards 
which  had  there  surrounded  her.  Without  a  mother, 
without  a  companion,  she  had  to  find  what  solace, 
what  pastime  she  could.  In  the  huge  house  there 
was  not  a  piano  fit  to  play  upon  ;  and  her  only  source 
of  in-door  amusement  was  a  library  containing  a  large 
disproportion  of  books  in  old  French  bindings,  with 
much  tarnished  gilding  on  the  backs.  But  a  native 
purity  of  soul  kept  her  lovely,  and  capable  of  becom- 
ing lovelier. 

The  mystery  of  all  mysteries  is  the  upward  tendency 
of  so  many  souls  through  so  much  that  clogs  and 
would  defile  their  wings,  while  so  many  others  seem 


COSMO   AND  LADY  JOAN   CLIMBING. 


A    WINTER    IDYLL.  263 


never  even  to  look  up.  Then,  having  so  begun  with 
the  dust,  how  do  these  ever  come  to  raise  their  eyes 
to  the  hills }  The  keenest  of  us  moral  philosophers 
are  but  poor,  mole-eyed  creatures !  One  day,  I  trust, 
we  shall  laugh  at  many  a  difficulty  that  now  seems  in- 
surmountable, but  others  will  keep  rising  behind  them. 

Lady  Joan  did  not  like  ugly  things,  and  so  shrank 
from  evil  things.  She  was  the  less  in  danger  from 
liberty,  because  of  the  disgust  which  certain  tones  and 
words  of  her  father  had  repeatedly  occasioned  her. 
She  learned  self-defence  early  —  and  alone,  without 
even  a  dog  to  keep  her  company,  and  help  her  to 
the  laws  of  the  world  outside  herself. 

With  none  of  the  conventionalities  of  society,  Lady 
Joan  saw  no  reason  for  making  a  difficulty  when, 
the  day  after  that  on  which  her  father  died,  Cosmo 
proposed  a  walk  in  the  snow.  He  saw  her  properly 
provided  for  what  seemed  to  her  an  adventure  — 
with  short  skirts,  and  stockings  over  her  shoes  — 
and  they  set  out  together,  in  the  brilliant  light  of  a  sun 
rapidly  declining  toward  the  western  horizon,  though 
it  had  but  just  passed  the  low  noon.  The  moment 
she  stepped  from  the  threshold,  Joan'  was  invaded 
by  an  almost  giddy  sense  of  freedom.  The  keen  air 
and  the  impeding  snow  sent  the  warm  blood  to  her 
cheeks,  and  her  heart  beat  as  if  new-born  into  a 
better  world.  She  was  annoyed  with  herself,  but  in 
vain  she  called  herself  heartless  ;  in  vain  she  accused 
herself  of  indifference  to  the  loss  of  her  father,  said 
to  herself  she  was  a  worthless  girl :  there  was  the 
sun  in  the  sky — not  warm,  but  dazzling-bright  and 
shining   straight   into   her  very  being !  while  the  air, 


264  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

instinct  with  life,  was  filling  her  lungs  like  water 
drunk  by  a  thirsty  soul,  and  making  her  heart  beat 
like  the  heart  of  Eve  wl>en  first  she  woke  alive,  and 
felt  what  her  Maker  had  willed  !  Life  indeed  was 
good !  it  was  a  blessed  thing  for  the  eyes  to  behold 
the  sun ! — Let  death  do  what  it  can,  there  is  just  one 
thing  it  cannot  destroy,  and  that  is  life.  Never  in 
itself,  only  in  the  unfaith  of  man,  does  life  recognize 
any  sway  of  death.  —  A  fresh  burst  of  healthy 
vigour  seemed  born  to  answer  each  fresh  effort. 
Over  the  torrent  they  walked  on  a  bridge  of  snow, 
and  listening  could  hear,  far  down,  below  the 
thick  white  blanket,  the  noise  of  its  hidden  rushing. 
Away  and  up  the  hill  they  went ;  the  hidden  torrent 
of  Joan's  blood  flowed  clearer;  her  heart  sang  to 
her  soul ;  and  everything  began  to  look  like  a 
thing  in  a  story  —  herself  a  princess,  and  her 
attendant  a  younger  brother,  travelling  with  her 
to  meet  the  tide  of  in-flowing  lovely  adventure. 
Such  a  brother  was  a  luxury  she  had  never  had — very 
different  from  an  older  one.  He  talked  so  strangely 
too — now  like  a  child,  now  like  an  old  man!  She 
felt  a  charm  in  both,  but  understood  neither.  Cap- 
able, through  confidence  in  his  father,  of  receiving  wis- 
dom far  beyond  what  he  could  have  thought  out  for 
himself,  he  sometimes  said  things  because  he  under- 
stood them,  which  seemed  to  most  who  heard  them  be- 
yond his  years.  Some  people  only  understand  enough 
of  a  truth  to  reject  it,  but  Cosmo's  reception  by  faith 
turned  to  sight,  as  all  true  faith  does  at  last,  and 
formed  a  soil  for  thought  more  immediately  his  own. 
They  had  been  climbing  a  steep  ascent,  very  difficult 


A    WINTER    IDYLL.  265 


in  the  snow,  and  had  at  length  reached  the  top,  where 
they  stood  for  a  moment  panting,  with  another  ascent 
beyond  them. 

"  Aren't  you  always  wanting  to  climb  and  climb, 
Lady  Joan  ?  "  said  the  boy. 

"  Call  me  Joan,  and  I  will  answer  you." 

"Then,  Joan, — how  kind  you  are!  Don't  you  al- 
ways want  to  be  getting  up  ? — up  higher  than  you  are  ? " 

"No;  I  don't  think  I  do." 

"  I  believe  you  do,  only  you  don't  know  it.  When 
I  get  on  the  top  of  yon  hill  there,  it  always  seems  to 
me  such  a  little  way  up!  —  and  Mr.  Simon  tells  ine  I 
should  feel  much  the  same,  if  it  were  ^e  top  of  the 
highest  peak  in  the  Himmalays." 

Lady  Jqan  did  not  reply,  and  Cosmo  too  was  silent 
for  a  time. 

"Don't  you  think,"  he  began  again,  "though  life  is 
so  very  good — to  me  especially  with  you  here — you 
would  get  very  tired  if  you  thought  you  had  to  live  in 
this  world  always  —  for  ever  and  ever  and  ever,  and 
never,  never  get  out  of  it  .'* " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Joan.  "  I  can't  say  I  find  life 
so  nice  as  you  think  it,  but  one  keeps  hoping  it  may 
turn  to  something  better." 

She  was  amused  with  what  she  counted  childish 
talk  for  a  boy  of  his  years  —  so  manly  too  beyond  his 
years ! 

"  That  is  very  curious  !  "  he  returned.  "  Now  I  am 
quite  happy ;  but  this  moment  I  should  feel  just  in  a 
prison,  if  I  thought  I  should  never  get  to  another 
world;  for  what  you  can  never  get  out  of,  ij  your 
prison — isn't  it.**" 


266  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"Yes  —  but  if  you  don't  want  to  get  out  ? " 

"  Ah,  that  is  true  !  but  as  soon  as  that  comes  to  a 
prisoner,  it  is  a  sign  that  he  is  worn  out,  and  has  not 
life  enough  in  him  to  look  the  world  in  the  face.  I 
was  talking  about  it  the  other  day  with  Mr.  Simon, 
else  I  shouldn't  have  got  it  so  plain.  The  blue  roof 
so  high  above  us  there,  is  indeed  very  different  from 
the  stone  vault  of  a  prison,  for  there  is  no  stop  or  end 
to  it.  But  if  you  can  never  get  away  from  under  it, 
never  get  off  the  floor  at  the  bottom  of  it,  I  feel  as  if 
it  might  almost  as  well  be  something  solid  that  held 
me  in.  The^ e  would  be  no  promise  in  the  stars  then  : 
they  look  now  like  promises,  don't  they  ?  I  do  not 
believe  God  would  ever  show  us  a  thing  he  did  not 
mean  to  give  us." 

"  You  are  a  very  odd  boy,  Cosmo.  I  am  almost 
afraid  to  listen  to  you.  You  say  such  presumptuous 
things ! " 

Cosmo  laughed  a  little  gentle  laugh. 

"  How  can  you  love  God,  Joan,  and  be  afraid  to 
speak  before  him  ?  I  should  no  more  dream  of  his 
being  angry  with  me  for  thinking  he  made  me  for 
great  and. glad  things,  and  was  altogether  generous 
towards  me,  than  I  could  imagine  my  father  angry 
with  me  for  wishing  to  be  as  wise  and  as  good  as  he 
is,  when  I  know  it  is  wise  and  good  he  most  wants 
me  to  be." 

"  Ah,  but  he  is  your  father,  you  know,  and  that  Is 
very  different ! " 

"I  know  it  is  very  different  —  God  is  so  much, 
much  more  my  father  than  is  the  laird  of  Glen  war- 
lock !     He  is  so  much  more  to  me,  and  so   much 


A   WINTER    IDYLL.  267 


nearer  to  me,  though  my  father  is  the  best  father  that 
ever  lived !  God,  you  know,  Joan,  God  is  more  than 
anybody  knows  what  to  say  about.  Sometimes,  when 
I  am  lying  in  my  bed  at  night,  my  heart  swells  and 
swells  in  me,  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  bear  it,  with 
the  thought  that  here  I  am,  come  out  of  God,  and  yet 
not  out  of  him  —  close  to  the  very  life  that  said  to 
everything  be,  and  it  was  !  —  you  think  it  strange  that 
I  talk  so  ?  " 

"  Rather,  I  must  confess  !  I  don't  believe  it  can  be 
a  good  thing  at  your  age  to  think  so  much  about 
religion.  There  is  a  time  for  everything.  You  talk 
like  one  of  those  good  little  children  in  books  that 
always  die  —  at  least  I  have  heard  of  such  books  —  I 
never  saw  any  of  them." 

Cosmo  laughed  again. 

"Which  of  us  is  the  merrier — you  or  me ?  Which 
of  us  is  the  stronger,  Joan .?  The  moment  I  saw  you, 
I  thought  you  looked  like  one  that  hadn't  enough  of 
something  —  as  if  you  weren't  happy ;  but  if  you 
knew  that  the  great  beautiful  person  we  call  God, 
was  always  near  you,  it  would  be  impossible  for  you 
to  go  on  being  sad." 

Joan  gave  a  great  sigh :  her  heart  knew  its  own 
bitterness,  and  there  was  little  joy  in  it  for  a  stranger 
to  intermeddle  with.  But  she  said  to  herself  the  boy 
would  be  a  gray-haired  man  before  he  was  twenty, 
and  began  to  imagine  a  mission  to  help  him  out  of 
these  morbid  fancies. 

"You  must  surely  understand,  Cosmo,"  she  said, 
**  that,  while  we  are  in  this  world,  we  must  live  as 
people  of  this  world,  not  of  another." 


268  WARLOCK    O*    GLENWARLOCK. 


"  But  you  can't  mean  that  the  people  of  this  world 
are  banished  from  Him  wiio  put  them  in  it !  He  is 
all  the  same,  in  this  world  and  in  every  other.  If 
anything  makes  us  happy,  it  must  make  us  much 
happier  to  know  it  for  a  bit  of  frozen  love  —  for  the 
love  that  gives  is  to  the  gift  as  water  is  to  snow.  Ah, 
you  should  hear  our  torrent  sing  in  summer,  and 
shout  in  the  spring !  The  thought  of  God  fills  me  so 
full  of  life  that  I  want  to  go  and  do  something  for 
everybody.  I  am  never  miserable.  I  don't  think  I 
shall  be  when  my  father  dies." 

"  Oh,  Cosmo  !  —  with  such  a  good  father  as  yours  ! 
I  am  shocked." 

Her  words  struck  a  pang  into  her  own  heart,  for 
she  felt  as  if  she  had  compared  his  father  and  hers, 
over  whom  she  was  not  miserable.  Cosmo  turned, 
and  looked  at  her.  The  sun  was  close  upon  the  hori- 
zon, and  his  level  rays  shone  full  on  the  face  of  the  boy. 

"  Lady  Joan,"  he  said  slowly,  and  with  a  tremble 
in  his  voice,  "I  should  just  laugh  with  delight  to 
have  to  die  for  my  father.  But  if  he  were  taken  from 
me  now,  I  should  be  so  proud  of  him,  I  should  have 
no  room  to  be  miserable.  As  God  makes  me  glad 
though  I  cannot  see  h'im,  so  my  father  would  make 
me  glad  though  I  could  not  see  him.  I  cannot  see 
him  now,  and  yet  I  am  glad  because  my  father  is  — 
away  down  there  in  the  old  castle ;  and  when  he  is 
gone  from  me,  I  shall  be  glad  still,  for  he  will  be 
somewhere  all  the  same  —  with  God  as  he  is  now.  We 
shall  meet  again  one  day,  and  run  at  each  other." 

It  was  an  odd  phrase  with  which  he  ended,  but 
Lady  Joan  did  not  laugh. 


A    WINTER    IDYLL.  269 

The  sun  was  down,  and  the  cold,  blue  gray  twilight 
came  creeping  from  the  east.  They  turned  and 
walked  home,  through  a  luminous  dusk.  It  would 
not  be  dark  all  night,  though  the  moon  did  not  rise 
till  late,  for  the  snow  gave  out  a  ghostly  radiance. 
Surely  it  must  be  one  of  those  substances  that  have 
the  power  of  drinking  and  hoarding  the  light  of  the 
sun,  that  with  their  memories  of  it  they  may  thin  the 
darkness  !  I  suspect  everything  does  it  more  or  less. 
Far  below  were  the  lights  of  the  castle,  and  across  an 
unbroken  waste  of  whiteness  the  gleams  of  the  vil- 
lage. The  air  was  keen  as  an  essence  of  points  and 
edges,  and  the  thought  of  the  kitchen  fire  grew  pleas- 
ant. Cosmo  took  Joan's  hand,  and  down  the  hill 
they,  ran  swiftly  descending  what  they  had  toilsomely 
climbed. 

As  she  ran,  the  thought  that  one  of  those  lights  was 
burning  by  the  body  of  her  father,  rebuked  Joan 
afresh.  She  was  not  glad,  and  she  could  not  be 
sorry !  If  Cosmo's  father  were  to  die,  Cosmo  would 
be  both  sorry  and  glad  !  But  the  boy  turned  his  face, 
ever  and  again  as  they  ran,  up  to  hers — she  was  a 
little  taller  than  he  —  and  his  every  look  comforted 
her.  An  attendant  boy-angel  he  seemed,  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  rebuke  and  console  her.  If  he  were 
her  brother,  she  would  be  well  content  never  more  to 
leave  the  savage  place  !  For  the  strange  old  man  in 
the  red  night-cap  was  such  a  gentleman !  and  this 
odd  boy,  absolutely  unnatural  in  his  goodness,  was 
nevertheless  charming  !  She  did  not  yet  know  that 
goodness  is  the  only  nature.  She  regarded  it  as  a 
noble  sort  of  disease — as  something  at  least  which 


270  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

it  was  possible  to  have  too  much  of.  She  had  not  a 
suspicion  that  goodness  and  nothing  else  is  life  and 
health  —  that  what  the  universe  demands  of  us  is 
to  be  good  boys  and  girls. 

To  judge  religion  we  must  have  it  —  not  stare  at 
it  from  the  bottom  of  a  seeming  interminable  ladder. 
\yhen  she  reached  the  door,  she  felt  as  if  waking  out 
of  a  dream,  in  which  she  had  been  led  along  strange 
paths  by  a  curious  angel.  But  not  to  himself  was 
Cosmo  like  an  angel !  For  indeed  he  was  a  strong, 
viguorous,  hopeful,  trusting  boy  of  God's  in  this  world, 
and  would  be  just  such  a  boy  in  the  next  —  one 
namely  who  did  his  work,  and  was  ready  for  whatever 
was  meant  to  come. 

When,  from  all  that  world  of  snow  outside,  Joan 
entered  the  kitchen  with  its  red  heart  of  fire,  she 
knew  for  a  moment  how  a  little  bird  feels  when  creep- 
ing under  the  wing  of  his  mother.  Those  old  He- 
brews —  what  poets  they  were  !  Holy  and  homely 
and  daring,  they  delighted  in  the  wings  of  the  Al- 
mighty ;  but  the  Son  of  the  Father  made  the  lovely 
image  -more  homely  still,  likening  himself  to  the  hen 
under  whose  wings  the  chickens  would  not  creep  for 
all  her  crying  and  calling.  Then  first  was  Joan 
aware  of  simple  confidence,  of  safety  and  satisfaction 
and  loss  of  care ;  for  the  old  man  in  the  red  night- 
cap would  see  to  eveiything !  Nought  would  go 
amiss  where  he  was  at  the  head  of  affairs  !  And 
hardly  was  she  seated  when  she  felt  a  new  fold  of  his 
protection  about  her :  he  told  her  he  had  had  her 
room  changed,  that  she  might  be  near  his  mother  and 
Grizzle,  and  not  have  to  go  out  to  reach  it. 


A    WINTER    IDYLL.  27 1 


Cosmo  heard  with  deUght  that  his  father  had  given 
up  his  room  to  Lady  Joan,  and  would  share  his.  To 
sleep  with  his  father  was  one  of  the  greatest  joys  the 
world  held  for  him.  Such  a  sense  of  safety  and  com- 
fort—  of  hen's  wings — was  nowhere  else  to  be  had 
on  the  face  of  the  great  world  !  It  was  the  full  type 
of  conscious  well-being,  of  softness  and  warmth  and 
peace  in  the  heart  of  strength.  His  father  was  to 
him  a  downy  nest  inside  a  stone-castle. 

They  all  sat  together  round  the  kitchen  fire.  The 
laird  fell  into  a  gentle  monologue,  in  which,  to  Joan's 
thinking,  he  talked  even  more  strangely  than  Cosmo. 
Things  born  in  the  fire  and  the  smoke,  like  the  song 
of  the  three  holy  children,  issued  from  the  furnace 
clothed  in  softest  moonlight.  Joan  said  to  herself  it 
was  plain  where  the  boy  got  his  oddity ;  but  what  she 
called  oddity  was  but  sense  from  a  deeper  source 
than  she  knew  the  existence  of.  He  read  them  also 
passages  of  the  book  then  occupying  him  so  much : 
Joan  wondered  what  attraction  such  a  jumble  of  good 
words  and  no  sense  could  have  for  a  man  so  capable 
in  ordinary  affairs.  Then  came  supper ;  and  after 
that,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Joan  was  present 
when  a  man  had  the  presumption  to  speak  to  his 
Maker  direct  from  his  own  heart,  without  the  medi- 
ation of  a  book.  This  she  found  odder  than  all  the 
rest ;  she  had  never  even  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  So 
peculiar,  so  unfathomable  were  his  utterances,  that  it 
never  occurred  to  her  the  man  might  be  meaning 
something ;  farther  from  her  still  was  the  thought, 
that  perhaps  God  liked  to  hear  him,  was  listening 
to  him  and  understanding  him,  and  would  give  him 


272  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

the  things  he  asked.  She  heard  only  an  extraordi- 
nary gibberish,  supposed  suitable  to  a  religious  ob- 
servance —  family  prayers,  she  thought  it  must  be  ! 
She  felt  confused,  troubled,  ashamed  —  so  grievously 
out  of  her  element  that  she  never  knew  until  they 
rose,  that  the  rest  were  kneeling  while  she  sat  staring 
into  the  fire.  Then  she  felt  guilty  and  shy,  but  as 
nobody  took  any  notice,  persuaded  herself  they  had 
not  observed.  The  unpleasantness  of  all  this,  how- 
ever, did  not  prevent  her  from  saying  to  herself  as 
she  went  to  bed,  "  Oh,  how  delightful  it  would  be  to 
live  in  a  house  where  everybody  understood,  and 
loved,  and  thought  about  everybody  else  !  "  She  did 
not  know  that  she  was  wishing  for  nothing  more,  and 
something  a  little  less,  than  the  kingdom  of  heaven  — 
the  very  thing  she  thought  the  laird  and  Cosmo  so 
strange  for  troubling  their  heads  about.  If  men's 
wishes  are  not  always  for  what  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
would  bring  them,  their  miseries  at  least  are  all  for 
the  lack  of  that  kingdom. 

That  night  Joan  dreamed  herself  in  a  desert  island, 
where  she  had  to  go  through  great  hardships,-  but 
where  everybody  was  good  to  everybody,  and  never 
thought  of  taking  care  except  of  each  other;  and  that, 
when  a  beautiful  ship  came  to  carry  her  away,  she 
cried,  and  would  not  go. 

Three  weeks  of  all  kinds  of  weather,  except  warm, 
followed,  ending  with  torrents  of  rain,  and  a  rapid 
thaw;  but  before  that  time  Joan  had  got  as  careless 
of  the  weather  as  Cosmo,  and  nothing  delighted  her 
more  than  to  encounter  any  sort  of  it  with  him. 
Nothing  kept   her   in-doors,  and    as   she  always  at- 


A    WINTER    IDYLL.  273 


tended  to  Grizzle's  injunctions  the  moment  she  re- 
turned, she  took  no  harm,  and  grew  much  stronger. 
It  is  not  encountering  the  weather  that  is  dangerous, 
but  encountering  it  when  the  strength  is  not  equal  to 
the  encounter.  These  two  would  come  in  wet  from 
head  to  foot,  change  their  clothes,  have  a  good  meal, 
sleep  well,  and  wake  in  the  morning  without  the  least 
cold.  They  would  spend  the  hours  between  breakfast 
and  dinner  ascending  the  bank  of  a  hill-stream, 
dammed  by  the  snow,  swollen  by  the  thaw,  and  now 
rushing  with  a  roar  to  the  valley;  or  fighting  their 
way  through  wind  and  sleet  to  the  top  of  some  wild 
expanse  of  hill-moorland,  houseless  for  miles  and 
miles — waste  bog,  and  dry  stony  soil,  as  far  as  eye 
could  reach,  with  here  and  there  a  solitary  stock  or 
bush,  bending  low  to  the  ground  in  the  steady  bitter 
wind  —  a  hopeless  region,  save  that  it  made  the  hope 
in  their  hearts  glow  the  redder;  or  climbing-a  gully, 
deep-worn  by  the  few  wheels  of  a  month  but  the  many 
of  centuries,  and  more  by  the  torrents  that  rushed 
always  down  its  trench  when  it  rained  heavily,  or 
thawed  after  snow  —  hearing  the  wind  sweep  across  it 
above  their  heads,  but  feeling  no  breath  of  its  pres- 
ence, till  emerging  suddenly  upon  its  plane,  they  had 
to  struggle  with  it  for  very  foot-hold  upon  the  round 
earth.  In  such  contests  Lady  Joan  delighted.  It  was 
so  nice,  she  said,  to  have  a  downright  good  fight,  and 
nobody  out  of  temper !  She  would  come  home  from 
the  windy  war  with  her  face  glowing,  her  eyes  flashing, 
her  hair  challenging  storm  from  every  point  of  the 
compass,  and  her  heart  merry  with  very  peacefulness. 
Her  only  thoughts  of  trouble  were,  that  her  father's 


2  74  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

body  lay  unburied,  and  that  Borland  would  come  and 
take  her  away. 

When  the  thaw  came  at  last,  the  laird  had  the 
coffin  brought  again  into  the  guest-chamber,  and  there 
placed  on  trestles,  to  wait  the  coming  of  the  new  Lord 
Mergwain. 

Outstripping  the  letter  that  announced  his  de- 
parture, he  arrived  at  length,  and  with  him  his  man 
of  business.  Lady  Joan's  heart  gave  a  small  beat  of 
pleasure  at  sight  of  him,  then  lay  quiet,  sad,  and  ap- 
prehensive :  the  cold  proper  salute  he  gave  her 
seemed,  after  the  life  she  had  of  late  been  living,  to 
belong  rather  to  some  sunless  world  than  the  realms 
of  humanity.  He  uttered  one  commonplace  concern- 
ing his  father's  death,  and  never  alluded  to  it  again ; 
behaved  in  a  dignified,  recognizant  manner  to  the 
laird,  as  to  an  inferior  to  whom  he  was  under  more 
obligation  than  he  saw  how  to  wipe  out;  and,  after 
the  snub  with  which  he  met  the  boy's  friendly  ap- 
proach, took  no  farther  notice  of  Cosmo.  Seated 
three  minutes,  he  began  to  require  the  laird's  assist- 
ance towards  the  removal  of  the  body;  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  accept  refreshment;  had  a  mes- 
senger despatched  instantly  to  procure  the  nearest 
hearse  and  four  horses;  and  that  same  afternoon 
started  for  England,  following  the  body,  and  taking 
his  sister  with  him. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


AN    "  INTERLUNAR    CAVE. 


And  SO  the  moon  died  out  of  Cosmo's  heaven. 
But  it  was  only  the  moon.  The  sun  remained  to 
him  —  his  father  —  visible  type  of  the  great  sun, 
whose  light  is  too  keen  for  souls,  and  heart  and  spirit 
only  can  bear.  But  when  he  had  received  Joan's 
last  smile,  when  she  turned  away  her  face,  and  the 
Ungenial,  who  had  spoiled  everything  at  Glenwarlock, 
carried  her  away,  then  indeed  for  a  moment  a  great 
cloud  came  over  the  light  of  his  life,  and  he  sought 
where  to  hide  his  tears.  It  was  a  sickening  time,  for 
suddenly  she  had  come,  suddenly  entered  his  heart, 
and  suddenly  departed.  But  such  things  are  but 
clouds,  and  cannot  but  pass.  Ah,  reader  !  it  may  be 
your  cloud  has  not  yet  passed,  and  you  scorn  to  hear 
it  called  one,  priding  yourself  that  your  trouble  is 
eternal.  But  just  because  you  are  eternal,  your 
trouble  cannot  be.  You  may  cling  to  it,  and  brood 
over  it,  but  you  cannot  keep  it  from  either  blossom- 
ing into  a  bliss,  or  crumbling  to  dust.  Be  such  while 
275 


276  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

it  lasts,  that,  when  it  passes,  it  shall  leave  you  loving 
more,  not  less. 

There  was  this  difference  between  Cosmo  and  most 
young  men  of  clay  finer  than  ordinary,  that,  after  the 
first  few  moments  of  the  seemingly  unendurable,  he 
did  not  wander  about  moody,  nursing  his  sorrow,  and 
making  everybody  uncomfortable  because  he  was  un- 
comfortable ;  but  sought  the  more  the  company  of 
his  father,  and  of  Mr.  Simon,  from  whom  he  had 
been  much  separated  while  Lady  Joan  was  with  them. 
For  such  a  visit  was  an  opportunity  most  precious  in 
the  eyes  of  the  laird.  With  the  sacred  instinct  of  a 
father  he  divined  what  the  society  of  a  lady  would  do 
for  his  boy  —  for  the  ripening  of  his  bloom,  and  the 
strengthening  of  his  volition.  Two  days  had  not 
passed  before  he  began  to  be  aware  of  a  softening 
and  clearing  of  his  speech  ;  of  greater  readiness  and 
directness  in  his  replies ;  of  an  indescribable  sweet- 
ening of  the  address,  that  had  been  sweet,  with  a 
rose-shadow  of  gentle  apology  cast  over  every  ap- 
proach ;  of  a  deepening  of  the  atmosphere  of  his 
reverence,  which  yet  as  it  deepened  grew  more 
diaphanous.  And  when  now  the  episode  of  angelic 
visitation  was  over,  with  his  usual  wisdom  he  under- 
stood the  wrench  her  abrupt  departure  must  have 
given  his  whole  being,  and  allowed  him  plenty  of 
time  to  recover  himself  from  it.  Once  he  came  upon 
him  weeping :  not  with  faintest  overshadowing  did  he 
rebuke  him,  not  with  farthest  hint  suggest  weakness 
in  his  tears.  He  went  up  to  him,  laid  his  hand 
gently  on  his  head,  stood  thus  a  moment,  then  turned 
withtiut  a  word,  and  left  him.     Nowise  because  of  his 


AN    "INTERLUNAR    CAVE.  277 

sorrow  did  he  regret  the  freedom  he  had  granted 
their  intercourse.  He  knew  what  the  sharp  things  of 
life  are  to  the  human  plant ;  that  its  frosts  are  as  need- 
ful as  its  sunshine,  its  great  passion-winds  as  its  gentle 
rains  ;  that  a  divine  result  is  required,  and  that  his 
son  was  being  made  divinely  human  ;  that  in  aid 
of  this  end  the  hand  of  man  must  humbly  follow  the 
great  lines  of  Nature,  ready  to  withhold  itself,  anxious 
not  to  interfere.  Most  people  resist  the  marvellous 
.  process ;  call  in  the  aid  of  worldly  wisdom  for  low 
ends ;  and  bring  the  experience  of  their  own  failures 
to  bear  for  the  production  of  worse.  But  there  is  no 
escaping  the  mill  that  grinds  slowly  and  grinds  small ; 
and  those  who  refuse  to  be  living  stones  in  the  living 
temple,  must  be  ground  into  mortar  for  it. 

The  next  day,  of  his  own  choice,  Cosmo  went 
to  Mr.  Simon.  He  also  knew  how  to  treat  the  grow- 
ing plant.  He  set  him  such  work  as  should  in  a 
measure  harmonize  with  his  late  experience,  and 
so  drew  him  gently  from  his  past :  mere  labour  would 
have  but  driven  him  deeper  into  it.  Yesterday  is 
as  much  our  past  as  the  bygone  century,  and  shelter- 
ing in  it  from  an  uncongenial  present,  we  are  lost  to 
our  morrow.  Thus  things  slid  gently  back  with  him 
into  their  old  grooves.  An  era  of  blessedness  had 
vanished,  but  was  not  lost ;  it  was  added  to  his  life, 
gathered  up  into  his  being ;  it  was  dissolved  into  his 
consciousness,  and  interpenetrated  his  activity. 
Where  there  is  no  ground  of  regret,  or  shame,  or  self- 
reproach,  new  joy  casts  not  out  the  old  ;  and  now 
that  the  new  joy  was  old,  the  older  joys  came  softly 
trooping  back  to  their  attendance.      Nor  was  this  all. 


278  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

The  departing  woman  left  behind  her  a  gift  that  had 
never  been  hers  —  the  power  of  verse:  he  began 
to  be  a  poet.  The  older  I  grow  the  more  am  I  filled 
with  marvel  at  the  divine  idea  of  the  mutual  devel- 
opment of  the  man  and  the  woman.  Many  a  woman 
has  made  of  a  man,  for  the  time  at  least,  and  some- 
times for  ever,  a  poet,  caring  for  his  verses  never 
a  cambric  handkerchief  or  pair  of  gloves !  A 
wretched  man  to  whom  a  poem  is  not  worth  a  sneer, 
may  set  a  woman  singing  to  the  centuries  ! 

Any  gift  of  the  nature  of  poetry,  however  poor 
or  small,  is  of  value  inestimable  to  the  development 
of  the  individual,  ludicrous  even  though  it  may  show 
itself,  should  conceit  clothe  it  in  print.  The  desire 
of  fame,  so  vaunted,  is  the  ruin  of  the  small,  some- 
times of  the  great  poet.  The  next  evil  to  doing 
anything  for  love  of  money,  is  doing  it  for  the  love  of 
fame.  A  man  may  have  a  wife  who  is  all  the  world 
to  him,  but  must  he  therefore  set  her  on  a  throne  ? 
Cosmo,  essentially  and  peculiarly  practical,  never 
thought  of  the  world  and  his  verses  together, 
but  gathered  life  for  himself  in  the  making  of 
them. 

These  children  of  his,  like  all  real  children,  strength- 
ened his  heart,  and  upheld  his  hands.  In  them  Truth 
took  to  him  shape  ;  in  them  she  submitted  herself  to 
his  contemplation.  He  grew  faster,  and-  from  the 
days  of  his  mourning  emerged  more  of  a  man,  and 
abler  to  look  the  world  in  the  face. 

From  that  time  also  he  learned  and  understood 
more  rapidly,  though  he  never  came  to  show  any 
great  superiority  in  the  faculties  most  prized  of  this 


AN    "INTERLUNAR    CAVE.  279 

world,  whose  judgment  differs  from  that  of  God's 
kingdom  in  regard  to  the  comparative  value  of  intel- 
lectual gifts  almost  as  much  as  it  does  in  regard  to 
the  relative  value  of  the  moral  and  the  intellectual. 
Not  the  less  desirable  however  did  it  seem  in  the  eyes 
of  both  his  father  and  his  tutor,  that,  if  it  could  any- 
how be  managed,  he  should  go  the  next  winter  to 
college.  As  to  how  it  could  be  managed,  the  laird 
took  much  serious  thought,  but  saw  no  glimmer  of 
light  in  the  darkness  of  apparent  impossibility.  An 
unsuspected  oracle  was  however  at  hand. 

Old  servants  of  the  true  sort,  have,  I  fancy,  a  kind 
of  family  instinct.  From  the  air  about  them  almost, 
from  the  personal  carriage,  from  words  dropped  that 
were  never  meant  for  them,  from  the  thoughtful, 
troubled,  or  eager  look,  and  the  sought  or  avoided 
conference,  they  get  possessed  by  a  notion  both  of 
how  the  wind  is  blowing,  and  of  how  the  ship  wants 
to  sail.  But  Grizzle  was  capable  of  reasoning  from 
what  she  saw.  She  marked  the  increase  of  care  on 
the  brow  of  her  master ;  noted  that  it  was  always 
greater  after  he  and  Mr.  Simon  had  had  a  talk  at 
which  Cosmo,  the  beloved  of  both,  was  not  present ; 
and  concluded  that  their  talk,  and  the  laird's  trouble, 
must  be  about  Cosmo.  She  noted  also  that  both 
were  as  much  pleased  with  him  as  ever,  and  concluded 
therefore  it  was  his  prospects  and  not  his  behaviour 
that  caused  the  uneasiness.  Then  again  she  noted 
how  fervently  at  prayers  her  master  entreated  guid- 
ance to  do  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  right  thing; 
and  from  all  put  together,  and  considered  in  the  light 
©f  a  tolerably  accurate  idea  of   the  laird's  circum- 


28o  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Stances,  Grizzle  was  able  not  only  to  arrive  at  a  final 
conclusion,  but  to  come  to  the  resolution  of  offering 
—  not  advice  —  that  she  would  never  have  presumed 
upon — but  a  suggestion, 


CHAPTER  XX. 


CATCH  YER  NAIG. 


One  night  the  laird  sat  in  the  kitchen  revolving  in 
his  mind  the  whole  affair  for  the  many  hundredth 
time.  Was  it  right  to  spend  on  his  son's  education 
what  might  go  to  the  creditors  ?  Was  it  not  better 
for  the  world,  for  the  creditors,  and  for  all,  that  one 
of  Cosmo's  vigour  should  be  educated  ?  Was  it  not 
the  best  possible  investment  of  any  money  he  could 
lay  hold  of  ?  As  to  the  creditors,  there  was  the  land  ! 
the  worst  for  him  was  the  best  for  them  ;  and  for  the 
boy  it  was  infinitely  better  he  should  go  without  land 
than  without  education !  But,  all  this  granted  and 
settled,  where  was  the  money  to  come  from  ?  That  the 
amount  required  was  small,  made  no  difference,  when 
it  was  neither  in  hand,  nor,  so  far  as  he  could  see, 
anywhere  near  his  hand. 

He  sat  in  his  great  chair,  with  his  book  open  upon 
his  knees.  His  mother  and  Cosmo  were  gone  to  bed, 
and  Grizzle  was  preparing  to  follow  them :  the  laird 
was  generally  the  last  to  go.     But  Grizzle,  who  had 


282  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

been  eying  him  at  intervals  for  the  last  half  hour, 
having  now  finished  her  preparations  for  the  morning, 
drew  near,  and  stood  before  him,  with  her  hands  and 
bare  arms  under  her  apron.  Her  master  taking  no 
notice  of  her,  she  stood  thus  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
then  began.  It  may  have  been  noted  that  the  riming 
tendency  appeared  mostly  in  the  start  of  a  speech, 
and  mostly  vanished  afterwards. 

"Laird,"  she  said,  "ye're  in  trouble,  for  ye're  sittin' 
double,  an'  castna  a  leuk  upo'  yer  buik.  Gien  ye  wad 
lat  a  body  speyk  'at  kens  naething,  'cep'  'at  oot  o'  the 
moo'  o'  babes  an'  sucklin's  —  an'  troth  I'm  naither 
babe  nor  sucklin'  this  mony  a  lang,  but  I'm  a  muckle 
eneuch  gowk  to  be  ane  o'  the  Lord's  innocents,  an' 
hae  him  perfec'  praise  oot  o'  the  moo'  o'  me  !  —  " 

She  paused  a  moment,  feeling  it  was  time  the  laird 
should  say  something — which  immediately  he  did. 

"  Say  awa',  Grizzle,"  he  answered;  "I'm  hearin'  ye. 
There's  nane  has  a  better  richt  to  say  her  say  i'  this 
hoose ;  what  ither  hae  ye  to  say't  intil ! " 

"  I  hae  no  richt,"  retorted  Grizzle,  almost  angrily, 
"but  what  ye  alloo  me,  laird;  and  I  wadna  wuss  the 
Lord  to  gie  me  ony.mair.  But  whan  I  see  ye  in 
tribble — eh,  mony's  the  time  I  hand  my  tongue  till 
my  hert's  that  grit  it's  jist  swallin'  in  blobs  an'  blawin' 
like  the  parritch  whan  its  dune  makin',  afore  tak  it 
frae  the  fire !  for  I  hae  naething  to  say,  an'  naither 
coonsel  nor  help  intil  me.  But  last  nicht,  whan  I 
leukit  na  for't,  there  cam  a  thoucht  intil  my  held,  an' 
seein'  it  was  a  stranger,  I  bad  it  walcome.  It  micht 
hae  come  til  a  far  wysser  held  nor  mine,  but  seein'  it 
did  come  to  mine,  it  wad  luik  as  gien  the  Lord  micht 


CATCH    YER    NAIG.  283 

hae  pitten'  t'  there  —  to  the  comfort  an'  consolation 
o'  ane,  'at,  gien  she  be  a  gowk,  is  muckle  the  same  as 
the  Lord  made  her  wi'  's  ain  bUss-it  han'.  Sae,  quo' 
I,  Is'  jist  submit  the  thing  to  the  laird.  He'll  sune 
discern  whether  it  be  frae  the  Lord  or  mysel' ! " 

"  Say  on,  Grizzle,"  returned  the  laird,  when  again 
she  paused.  "  It  sud  surprise  nane  to  get  a  message 
frae  the  Lord  by  the  mou'  o'  ane  o'  his  handmaid- 
ens." 

"Weel,  it's  this,  laird. —  I  hae  often  been  i'  the 
gran'  drawin'  room,  when  ye  wad  be  lattin'  the  yoong 
laird,  or  somebody  or  anither  ye  wantit  to  be  special 
til,  see  the  bonny  things  ye  hae  sic  a  fouth  o'  i'  the 
caibnets  again  the  wa's ;  an'  I  hae  aye  h'ard  ye  say  o' 
ane  o'  them  —  yon  bonny  little  horsie,  ye  ken,'at  they 
say  the  auld  captain,  'at  's  no  laid  yet,  gied  to  yer 
gran'f ather  —  I  hae  aye  h'ard  ye  say  o'  that,  'at  hoo  it 
was  solid  silver  — '  said  to  be,^  ye  wad  aye  tack  to  the 
tail  o'  't." 

"  True !  true !  "  said  the  laird,  a  hopeful  gleam 
beginning  to  break  upon  his  darkness. 

"We'll,  ye  see,  laird,"  Grizzle  went  on,  "I'm  no 
sic  a  born  idiot  as  think  ye  wad  set  the  possession  o' 
sic  a  playock  again  the  yoong  laird's  edication ;  sae 
ye  maun  hae  some  rizzon  for  no  meltin'  't  doon  — 
seein'  siller  maun  aye  be  worth  siller, —  an'  gowd, 
gien  there  be  eneuch  o'  't.  Sae,  like  the  minister,  I 
come  to  the  conclusion  —  But  I  hae  yer  leave,  laird, 
to  speyk  ? " 

"  Gang  on,  gang  on.  Grizzle,"  said  the  laird,  al- 
most eagerly. 

"  Weel,  laird  —  I  winna  say  feart,  for  I  never  saw 


284  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

yer  lairdship  "  —  she  had  got  into  the  way  of  saying 
lordship,  and  now  not  unfrequently  said  lairdship  I — 
"  feart  afore  bull  or  bully,  but  I  cud  weel  believe  ye 
wadna  willin'ly  anger  ane  'at  the  Lord  lats  gang  up 
and  doon  upo'  the  earth,  whan  he  wad  be  far  better 
intil  't,  ristin'  in  's  grave  till  the  resurrection  —  only 
he  was  never  ane  o'  the  sancts !  But  anent  that, 
michtna  ye  jist  ca'  to  min',  laird,  'at  a  gi'en  gift 's  yer 
ain,  to  du  wi'  what  ye  like  ;  an'  I  wad  na  heed  n\an, 
no  to  say  a  cratur  'at  belangs  richtly  to  nae  warl'  ava', 
'at  wad  play  the  bairn,  an'  want  back  what  he  had 
gi'en.  For  him,  he's  a  mere  deid  man  'at  winna  lie 
still.  Mony  a  bairn  canna  sleep,  'cause  he's  behavet 
himsel'  ill  the  day  afore !  But  gi'en,  by  coortesy  like, 
he  hed  a  word  i'  the  case,  he  cudna  objec'  —  that  is, 
gien  he  hae  onything  o'  the  gentleman  left  intil  him, 
which  nae  doobt  may  weel  be  doobtfu' — for  wasna 
he  a  byous  expense  wi'  his  drink  an'  the  gran'  oot- 
landish  dishes  he  bude  to  hae !  Af  ten  hae  I  h'ard 
auld  Grannie  say  as  muckle,  an'  she  kens  mair  aboot 
that  portion  o'  oor  history  nor  ony  ither,  for,  ye  see, 
I  cam  raither  late  intil  the  faimily  mysel'.  Sae,  as  I 
say,  it  wad  be  but  fair  the  auld  captain  sud  contree- 
bit  something  to  the  needcessities  o'  the  hoose,  war 
it  his  to  withhaud,  which  I  mainteen  it  is  not." 

"  Weel  rizzont,  Grizzle  !  "  cried  the  laird.  "  An'  I 
thank  ye  mair  for  yer  thoucht  nor  yer  rizzons ;  the 
tane  I  was  in  want  o',  the  tither  I  was  na.  The  thing 
sail  be  luikit  intil,  an'  that  the  first  thing  the  morn's 
mornin' !  The  bit  playock  cam  never  i'  my  held  !  I 
maun  be  growin'  auld.  Grizzle,  no  to  hae  thoucht  o'  a 
thing  sae  plain !     But  it's   the  w'y  wi'    a'   the   best 


CATCH    YER    NAIG.  285 


things  !  They're  sae  guid  whan  ye  get  a  grip  o'  them, 
'at  ye  canna  un'erstan'  hoo  ye  never  thoucht  o'  them 
afore." 

"  I'm  aul'er  nor  you,  sir  ;  sae  it  maun  hae  been  tl  e 
Lord  himsel'  'at  pat  it  intil  me." 

"We'll  see  the  morn,  Grizzle.  I'm  no  that  sure 
there's  onything  mair  intil  't  nor  a  mere  fule  word. 
For  onything  I  ken,  the  thing  may  be  nae  better  nor 
a  bit  o'  braiss.  I  hae  thoucht  mony  a  time  it  luikit, 
in  places,  unco  like  braiss.  But  Is'  tak  it  the  morn's 
mornin'  to  Jeemie  Merson.  We'll  see  what  he  says  til 
't.  Gien  ony  body  i'  these  pairts  hae  ony  authority 
in  sic  maitters,  it's  Jeemie.  An'  I  thank  ye  hertily. 
Grizzle." 

But  Grizzle  was  not  well  pleased  that  her  master 
should  so  lightly  pass  the  reasoned  portion  of  her 
utterance  ;  like  many  another  prophet,  she  prized 
more  the  part  of  her  prophecy  that  came  from  herself, 
than  the  part  that  came  from  the  Lord. 

"  Sae  plain  as  he  cam  an'  gaed,  laird,  I  thoucht  ye 
micht  hae  been  considerin'  him." 

The  laird  replied  to  her  tone  rather  than  her  words. 

"  Hoots,  Grizzle,  wuman  !  "  he  said,  "  was  na  ye 
jist  tellin'  me  no  to  heed  him  a  hair .''  An'  no  ae 
hair  wad  I  heed  him,  'cep'  it  wad  gie  ony  rist  til's 
puir  wan'erin'  sowl." 

"I  but  thoucht  the  thing  worth  a  thoucht,  laird," 
said  Grizzle,  humbly  and  apologetically ;  and  with  a 
kind  "Guid  nicht  to  ye,  laird,"  turned  away,  and  went 
up  the  stairs  to  her  room. 

The  moment  she  was  gone,  the  laird  fell  on  his 
knees,  and  gave  God  thanks  for  the  word  he  had  re- 


286  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ceived  by  his  messenger  —  if  indeed  it  pleased  him 
that  such  Grizzie  should  prove  to  be. 

"O  Lord,"  he  said,  "with  thee  the  future  is  as  the 
present,  and  the  past  as  the  future.  In  the  long 
past  it  may  be  thou  didst  provide  this  supply  for  my 
present  need  —  didst  even  then  prepare  the  answer  to 
the  prayers  with  which  thou  knewest  I  should  assail 
thine  ear.  Never  in  all  my  need  have  I  so  much 
desired  money  as  now  for  the  good  of  my  boy.  But 
if  this  be  but  one  of  my  hopes,  not  one  of  thy  intents, 
give  me  the  patience  of  a  son,  O  Father." 

With  these  words  he  rose  from  his  knees,  and  tak- 
ing his  book,  read  and  enjoyed  into  the  dead  of  the 
night. 

That  same  night,  Cosmo,  who,  again  in  his  own 
chamber,  was  the  more  troubled  with  the  trouble  of 
his  father  that  he  was  no  longer  with  him  in  his 
room,  dreamed  a  very  odd,  confused  dream,  of  which 
he  could  give  himself  but  little  account  in  the  morn- 
ing—  something  about  horses  shod  with  shoes  of 
gold,  which  they  cast  from  their  heels  in  a  shoe-storm 
as  they  ran,  and  which  anybody  might  have  for  the 
picking  up.  And  throughout  the  dream  was  diffused 
an  unaccountable  flavour  of  the  old  villain,  the  sea- 
captain,  although  nowhere  did  he  come  into  the 
story. 

When  he  came  down  to  breakfast,  his  father  told 
him,  to  his  delight,  that  he  was  going  to  Muir  of  War- 
lock, and  would  like  him  to  go  v/ith  him.  He  ran  like 
a  hare  up  the  waterside  to  let  Mr.  Simon  know,  and 
was  back  by  the  time  his  father  was  ready. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE    WATCHMAKER. 


It  was  a  lovely  day.  There  would  be  plenty  of 
cold  and  rough  weather  yet,  but  the  winter  was  over 
and  gone,  and  even  to  that  late  region  of  the  north, 
the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  was  come.  The  air 
was  soft,  with  streaks  of  cold  in  it.  The  fields  lay 
about  all  wet,  but  there  was  the  sun  above  them, 
whose  business  it  was  to  dry  them.  There  were  no 
leaves  yet  on  the  few  trees  and  hedges,  but  prepara- 
tions had  long  been  made,  and  the  sap  was  now  rising 
in  their  many  stems,  like  the  mercury  in  all  the  ther- 
mometers. Up  also  rose  the  larks,  joy  fluttering 
their  wings,  and  quivering  their  throats.  They  al- 
ways know  when  the  time  to  praise  God  is  come,  for 
it  is  when  they  begin  to  feel  happy :  more  cannot  be 
expected  of  them.  And  are  they  not  therein  already 
on  the  level  of  most  of  us  Christians  who  in  this 
mood  and  that  praise  God }  And  indeed  are  not  the 
birds  and  the  rest  of  the  creatures  Christians  in  the 
same  way  as  the  vast  mass  of  those  that  call  them- 
287 


288  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

selves  such?  Do  they  not  belong  to  the  creation 
groaning  after  a  redemption  they  do  not  know  ?  Men 
and  women  groan  in  misery  from  not  being  yet  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  God,  who  regard  nothing  else 
as  redemption,  but  the  getting  of  their  own  way, 
which  the  devil  only  would  care  to  give  them. 

As  they  went,  the  laird  told  Cosmo  what  was 
taking  him  to  the  village,  and  the  boy  walked  by  his 
father's  side  as  in  a  fairy  tale  ;  for  had  they  not  with 
them  a  strange  thing  that  might  prove  the  talismanic 
opener  of  many  doors  to  treasure-caves  ? 

They  went  straight  to  the  shop,  if  shop  it  could  be 
called,  of  Jeames  Merson,  the  watchmaker  of  the 
village.  There  all  its  little  ornamental  business  was 
done  —  a  silver  spoon  might  be  engraved,  a  new  pin 
put  to  a  brooch,  a  wedding  ring  of  sterling  gold 
purchased,  or  a  pair  of  earings  of  lovely  glass,  repre- 
senting amethyst  or  topaz.  There  a  second-hand 
watch  might  be  had,  with  choice  amongst  a  score, 
taken  in  exchange  from  ploughmen  or  craftsmen. 
Jeames  was  poor,  for  there  was  not  much  trade  in  his 
line,  and  so  was  never  able  to  have  much  of  a  stock  ; 
but  he  was  an  excellent  watchmaker  —  none  better 
in  the  great  city  —  so  at  least  his  town-folk  believed, 
and  in  a  village  it  soon  appears  whether  a  watch- 
maker has  got  it  in  him. 

He  was  a  thin,  pale  man,  with  a  mixed  look  of 
rabbit  and  ferret,  a  high  narrow  forehead,  and  keen 
gray  eyes.  His  work-shop  and  show-room  was  the 
kitchen,  partly  for  the  sake  of  his  wife's  company, 
partly  because  there  was  the  largest  window  the 
cottage   could    boast.      In   this   window  was    hung 


THE    WATCHMAKER.  289 

almost  his  whole  stock,  and  a  table  before  it  was 
covered  with  his  work  and  tools.  He  was  stooping 
over  it,  his  lens  in  his  eye,  busy  with  a  watch,  of 
which  several  portions  lay  beside  him  protected  from 
the  dust  by  footless  wine-glasses,  when  the  laird  and 
Cosmo  entered.  He  put  down  pinion  and  file, 
pushed  back  his  chair,  and  rose  to  receive  them. 

"  A  fine  mornin',  Jeames !  "  said  the  laird.  "  I 
houp  ye're  weel,  and  duin'  week" 

"  Muckle  the  same  as  usual,  laird,  an'  I  thank  ye," 
answered  Jeames,  with  a  large  smile.  "  I'm  no  jist 
upo'  the  ro'd  to  be  what  they  ca'  a  millionaire,  an' 
I'm  no  jist  upon  the  perris  —  something  atween  the 
twa,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"  I  doobt  there's  mair  o'  's  in  like  condition, 
Jeames,"  responded  the  laird,  "  or  we  wad  na  be 
comin'  to  tax  yer  skeel  at  this  present." 

"  Use  yer  freedom,  laird  ;  I'm  yer  heumble  servan'. 
It  wadna  be  a  watch  for  the  yoong  laird  .'*  I  ken- 
na— " 

He  stopped,  and  cast  an  anxious  eye  towards  the 
window. 

"  Na,  na,"  interrupted  the  laird,  sorry  to  have 
raised  even  so  much  of  a  vain  hope  in  the  mind 
of  the  man,  "  I'm  as  far  frae  a  watch  as  ye  are  frae  the 
bank.  But  I  hae  here  i'  my  pooch  a  bit  silly  playock, 
'at  's  been  i'  the  hoose  this  mony  a  lang ;  an'  jist 
this  last  nicht  it  was  pitten  intil  my  heid  there  micht 
be  some  guid  intl  the  chattel,  seein'  i'  the  tradition 
o'  the  faimily  it's  aye  been  hauden  for  siller.  For  my 
ain  pairt  I  hae  my  doobts ;  but  gien  onybody  here 
aboot  can  tell  the  trowth   o'  't,  yersel'  maun  be  the 


290  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

man  ;  an'  sae  I  hae  brought  it,  to  ken  what  ye  wad 
say  til  't." 

"  I'll  du  my  best  to  lowse  yer  doobt,  laird,"  re- 
turned Jeames.     "  Lat's  hae  a  luik  at  the  article." 

The  laird  took  the  horse  from  his  pocket,  and 
handed  it  to  him.  Jeames  regarded  it  for  some  time 
with  interest,  and  examined  it  with  care. 

"  It's  a  bonny  bit  o'  carved  work,"  he  said  ;  "  —  a 
bairnly  kin'  o'  a  thing  for  shape  —  mair  like  a  tim- 
mer  horsie ;  but  whan  ye  come  to  the  ornamenta- 
tion o'  the  same,  it  's  o'  anither  character  frae  the 
roon'  spots  o'  reid  paint — an'  sae 's  the  sma'  rubies 
an'  stanes  intil  '*t.  This  has  taen  a  heap  o'  time,  an' 
painsfu'  labour  —  a  deal  mair  nor  some  o'  's  wad  think 
it  worth,  I  doobt !  It  's  the  w'y  o'  the  haithens  wi' 
their  graven  eemages,  but  what  for  a  horsie  like  this, 
I  dinna  ken.  Hooever,  that's  naither  here  nor  there  : 
ye  didna  come  to  me  to  speir  hoo  or  what  for  it 
was  made ;  it  's  what  is  't  made  o'  's  the  question. 
It 's  some  yallow-like  for  siller ;  an'  it  's  unco  black, 
which  is  mair  like  it  —  but  that  may  be  wi'  dirt. — An' 
dirt  I'm  thinkin'  it  maun  be,  barkit  intil  the  gravin'/* 
he  went  on,  taking  a  tool  and  running  the  point  of 
it  along  one  of  the  fine  lines.  "  Troth  ohn  testit,  I 
wadna  like  to  say  what  it  was.  But  it  's  an  unco 
weicht!^ — I  doobt  —  na,  I  mair  nor  doobt  it  canna 
be  siller." 

So  saying  he  carried  it  to  his  table,  put  it  down, 
and  went  to  a  corner-cupboard.  Thence  he  brought  a 
small  stoppered  phial.  He  gave  it  a  little  shake,  and 
took  out  the  stopper.  It  was  followed  by  a  dense 
white  fume.     With  the  stopper  he  touched  the  horse 


THE    WATCHMAKER.  29  I 

underneath,  and  looked  closely  at  the  spot.  He  then 
replaced  the  stopper  and  the  bottle,  and  stood  by  the 
cupboard,  gazing  at  nothing  for  a  moment.  Then 
turning  to  the  laird,  he  said,  with  a  peculiar  look  and 
a  hesitating  expression  : 

"  Na,  laird,  it  's  no  siller.  Aquafortis  winna  bite 
upo'  't.  I  wad  mix  't  wi'  muriatic,  an'  try  that,  but 
I  hae  nane  handy,  an'  forby  it  wad  tak  time  to  tell. 
Ken  ye  whaur  it  cam  frae  ?  — Ae  thing  I'm  sure  o'  — 
it's  no  siller !" 

"  I'm  sorr}^  to  hear  it,"  rejoined  the  laird,  with  a 
faint  smile  and  a  little  sigh. —  "  Well,  we're  no  worse 
off  than  we  were,  Cosmo  !  —  But  poor  Grizzle  !  she 
'11  be  dreadfully  disappointed. —  Gie  me  the  bit  horsie, 
Jeames ;  we'll  e'en  tak'  him  hame  again.  It's  no 
his  fau't,  puir  thing,  'at  he  's  no  better  nor  he  was 
made  ! " 

"  Wad  ye  no  tell  me  whaur  the  bit  thing  cam  frae, 
or  is  supposit  to  hae  come  frae,  sir?  H'ard  ye  it 
ever  said,  for  enstance,  'at  the  auld  captain  they  tell 
o'  had  broucht  it  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  hae  h'ard  said,"  answered  the 
laird. 

"Weel,  sir,"  returned  Jeames,  "gien  ye  had  nae 
objection,  1  wad  fain  mak'  oot  what  the  thing  is 
made  o'." 

"  It  matters  little,"  said  the  laird,  "  seein'  we  ken 
what  it  's  710  made  o'  :  but  tak'  yer  wull  o'  't, 
Jeames." 

*'  Sit  ye  doon  than,  laird,  gien  ye  hae  naething  mair 
pressin',  an'  see  what  I  mak'  o'  't,"  said  the  watch- 
maker, setting  him  a  chair. 


292  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Wullin'ly,"  replied  the  laird,  "  — but  I  dinna  like 
takin'  up  yer  time." 

"  Ow,  my  time  's  no  sae  dooms  precious  !  I  can  aye 
win  throu'  wi'  my  work  ohn  swatten,"  said  Jeames, 
with  a  smile  in  which  mingled  a  half  comical  sad- 
ness. "  An'  it  wad  set  me  to  waur  't  {^puzzle  me  to  spend 
it)  better  to  my  ain  min'  nor  servin'  yersel',  i'  the 
sma'est,  sir." 

The  laird  thanked  him,  and  sat  down.  Cosmo 
placed  himself  on  a  stool  beside  him. 

"  I  hae  naething  upo'  han'  the  day,"  Jeames 
Merson  went  on,  "  but  a  watch  o'  Jeames  Grade's, 
up  at  the  Know  —  ane  o'  yer  ain  fowk,  laird.  He 
tells  me  it  was  your  gran'father,  sir,  gied  it  til  his 
gran'father.  It  's  a  queer  auld-fashiont  kin'  o' 
a  thing  —  some  complicat ;  an'  whiles  it  's  'maist  ower 
muckle  for  me.  Ye  see  auld  age  is  aboot  the  warst 
disease  horses  an'  watches  can  be  ta'en  wi' :  there's 
sae  little  left  to  come  an'  gang  upo'  !  " 

While  the  homely  assayer  thus  spoke,  he  was 
making  his  preparations. 

"  What  "for  no  men  as  weel  's  horses  an'  watches  1 " 
suggested  the  laird. 

'*  I  wadna  meddle  wi'  men.  I  lea'  them  to  the 
doctors  an'  the  ministers,"  replied  Jeames,  with 
another  wide,  silent  laugh. 

By  this  time  he  had  got  a  pair  of  scales  carefully 
adjusted,  a  small  tin  vessel  in  one  of  them,  and  bal- 
ancing weights  in  the  other.  Then  he  went  to  the 
rack  over  the  dresser,  and  mildly  lamenting  his  wife's 
absence  and  his  own  inability  to  lay  his  hand  on  the 
precise  vessels  he  wanted,  brought  thence  a  dish  and 


THE    WATCHMAKER.  293 

a  basin.  The  dish  he  placed  on  the  table  with  the 
basin  in  it  and  filled  the  latter  with  water  to  the  very- 
brim.  He  then  took  the  horse,  placed  it  gently  in 
the  basin,  which  was  large  enough  to  receive  it  en- 
tirely, and  set  basin  and  horse  aside.  Taking  then 
the  dish  into  which  the  water  had  overflowed,  he 
poured  its  contents  into  the  tin  vessel  in  the  one 
scale,  and  added  weights  to  the  opposite  until  they 
balanced  each  other,  upon  which  he  made  a  note 
with  a  piece  of  chalk  on  the  table.  Next,  he  removed 
everything  from  the  scales,  took  the  horse,  wiped 
it  in  his  apron,  and  weighed  it  carefully.  That  done, 
he  sat  down,  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  seemed 
to  his  visitors  to  be  making  a  calculation,  only  the 
conjecture  did  not  quite  fit  the  strange,  inscrutable 
expression  of  his  countenance.  The  laird  began 
to  think  he  must  be  one  of  those  who  delight  to 
plaster  knowledge  with  mystery. 

"Weel,  laird,"  said  Jeames  at  length,  "the  weicht 
o'  what  ye  hae  laid  upo'  me,  maks  me  doobtfu'  whaur 
nae  doobt  sud  be.  But  I'm  b'un'  to  say,  ootside  the 
risk  o'  some  mistak,  o'  the  gr'un's  o'  which  I  can  ken 
naething,  for  else  I  wadna  hae  made  it,  'at  this  bit 
horsie  o'  yours,  by  a'  'at  my  knowledge  or  skeel, 
which  is  naither  o'  them  muckle,  can  tell  me  — 
this  bit  horsie  —  an'  gien  it  binna  as  I  say,  I  ca.nnof 
see  what  for  it  sudna  be  sae  —  only,  ye  see,  laird, 
whan  we  think  we  ken  a'thing,  there's  a  heap  ahint 
oor  a'thing;  an'  feow  ken  better,  at  least  feow  hae  a 
richt  to  ken  better,  nor  I  du  mysel',  what  a  puir 
cratur  is  man,  an  hoo  liable  to  mak  mistaks,  e'en 
whan    he's   duin'  his  best  to  be  i'  the  richt ;  an  for 


294  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

oucht  'at  I  ken,  there  may  hae  been  grit  discoveries 
made,  ohn  ever  come  to  my  hearin',  'at  upsets  a'thing 
I  ever  was  gien  to  tak,  an'  baud  by  for  true  ;  an'  yet 
I  daurna  withhaud  the  conclusion  I'm  driven  til,  for 
maybe  whiles  the  hert  o'  man  may  gang  the  wrang 
gait  by  bein'  ower  wise  in  its  ain  conceit  o'  expeckin' 
ower  little,  jist  as  weel's  in  expeckin'  ower  muckle, 
an'  sae  I'm  b'un'  to  tell  ye,  laird,  'at  yer  expectations 
frae  this  knot  o'metal, — for  metal  we  maun  alloo  it 
to  be,  whatever  else  it  be  or  bena  —  yer  expectations, 
I  say,  are  a'thegither  wrang,  for  it's  no  more  siller 
nor  my  wife's  kitchie-poker." 

"Weel,  man!"  said  the  laird,  with  a  laugh  that  had 
in  it  just  a  touch  of  scorn,  "gien  the  thing  be  sae 
plain,  what  gars  ye  gang  that  gait  aboot  the  buss  to 
say't  ?  Du  ye  tak  me  and  Cosmo  here  for  bairns  'at 
wad  fa'  a  greetin'  gien  ye  tellt  them  their  ba-lamb 
wasna  a  leevin'  ane  —  naething  but  a  fussock  o' 
cotton-'oo',  rowed  roon'  a  bit  stick  ?  We're  naither  o' 
's  complimentit.  —  Come,  Cosmo.  —  I'm  nane  the  less 
obleeged  to  ye,  Jeames,"  he  added  as  he  rose, 
"  though  I  cud  weel  wuss  yer  opingon  had  been  sic  as 
wad  hae  pitten  't  'i  my  pooer  to  offer  ye  a  fee  for  't." 

"The  less  said  aboot  that  the  better,  laird!'*  re- 
plied Jeames  with  imperturbability,  and  his  large, 
silent  smile  ;  "  the  trowth's  the  trowth,  whether  it's 
paid  for  or  no.  But  afore  ye  gapg  it's  but  fair  to  tell 
ye  —  only  I  wadna  like  to  be  hauden  ower  strickly 
accoontable  for  the  opingon,  seein'  its  no  my  profes- 
sion, as  they  ca'  't,  but  I  hae  dune  my  best,  an  gien  I 
be  i'  the  wrang,  I  naither  hae  nor  had  ony  ill  design 
intil'  't.  — " 


THE    WATCHMAKER,  295 

"Bless  my  soul !  "  cried  the  laird,  with  more  impa- 
tience than  Cosmo  had  ever  seen  him  show,  "  is  the 
man  mad,  or  does  he  take  me  for  a  fool  ? " 

"  There's  some  things,  laird,"  resumed  Jeames, 
"that  hae'to  be  approcht  oontil,  wi'  circumspection 
an'  a  proaper  regaird  to  the  impression  they  may  mak. 
Noo,  disclaimin'  ony  desire  to  luik  like  an  ill-bred 
scoon'rel,  whilk  I  wad  raither  luik  to  onybody  nor  to 
yersel',  laird,  I  ventur  to  jaloose  'at  maybe  the  maitter  o' 
a  feow   poun's   micht   be    o'  some    consequence    to 

ye—" 

"  Ilka  fule  i'  the  country  kens  that  'at  kens  Glen- 
warlock,"  interrupted  the  laird,  and  turned  hastily. 
"  Come,  Cosmo." 

Cosmo  went  to  open  the  door,  troubled  to  see  his 
father  annoyed  with  the  unintelligibilit^'  of  the  man. 

"  Weel,  gien  ye  widl  gang,"  said  Jeames,  "  I  maun 
jist  tak  my  life  i'  my  han',  an'  —  " 

"  Hoot,  man  !  tak  yer  tongue  i'  yer  teeth ;  it'll  be 
mair  to  the  purpose,"  cried  the  laird  laughing,  for  he 
had  got  over  his  ill  humour  already.  "  My  life  i'  my 
han',  quo'  he! — Man,  I  haena  carriet  a  dirk  this 
mony  a  day  !     I  laid  it  aff  wi'  the  kilt." 

"Weel,  it  micht  be  the  better  'at  ye  hadna,  gien  ye 
binna  gaein  hame  afore  nicht,  for  I  saw  some  cairds 
o'  the  ro'd  the  day.  —  Ance  mair,  gien  ye  wad  but 
hearken  til  ane  'at  confesses  he  oucht  to  ken,  even 
sud  he  be  i'  the  wrang,  I  tell  ye  that  horsie  is  not 
siller  —  na,  nor  naething  like  it." 

"Plague  take  the  man!  —  what  is  it,  then.?"  cried 
the  laird. 

"  What  for  didna  ye  speir  that  at  me  afore  .? "  re- 


WARLOCK    O     GLEN  WARLOCK. 


joined  Jeames.  "  It  wad  hae  gien  me  leeberty  to  tell 
ye  —  to  the  best  o'  my  abeelity  that  is.  Whan  I'm  no 
cocksure  —  an'  its  ower  muckle  a  thing  to  be  cocksure 
aboot  —  I  wadna  volunteer  onything.  I  wadna  say 
naething  till  I  was  adjured  like  an  evil  speerit." 

"Weel,"  quoth  the  laird,  entering  now  into  the 
humour  of  the  thing,  "  herewith  I  adjure  thee,  thou 
contrairy  and  inarticulate  speerit,  that  thou  tell  me 
whereof  and  of  what  substance  this  same  toy-horse  is 
composed,  manufactured,  or  made  up." 

"  Toy  here,  toy  there !  "  returned  Jeames ;  "  sae  far 
as  ony  cawpabeelity  o'  mine,  or  ony  puir  skeel  I  hae, 
will  alloc  o'  testimony  —  though  min'  ye,  laird,  I 
winna  tak  the  consequences  o'  bein'  i'  the  wrang  — 
though  I  wad  raither  tak  them,  an'  ower  again,  nor 
be-i'  the  wrang, —  " 

The  laird  turned  and  went  out,  followed  by  Cosmo. 
He  began  to  think  the  man  must  have  lost  his  reason. 
But  when  the  watchmaker  saw  them  walking  steadily 
along  the  street  in  the  direction  of  home,  he  darted 
out  of  the  door  and  ran  after  them. 

"  Gien  ye  wad  gang,  laird,"  he  said,  in  an  injured 
tone,  "ye  mecht  hae  jist  latten  me  en'  the  sentence  I 
had  begun ! " 

"  There's  nae  en'  to  ony  o'  yer  sentences,  man !  " 
said  the  laird ;  "  that's  the  only  thing  i'  them  'at  was 
forgotten,  'cep'  it  was  the  sense." 

"Weel,  guid  day  to  ye  laird!"  returned  Jeames. 
"  Only,"  he  added,  drawing  a  step  nearer,  and  speak- 
ing in  a  subdued  confidential  voice,  "  dinna  lat  yer 
harsie  rin  awa'  upo'  the  ro'd  hame,  for  I  sweir  til  ye, 


THE    WATCHMAKER.  297 

gien  there  be  only  trowth  i'  the  laws  o'  natur,  he's  no 
siller,  nor  onything'like  it — " 

"  Hoots  !  "  said  the  laird,  and  turning  away,  walked 
off  with  great  strides. 

"  But,"  the  watchmaker  continued,  almost  running 
to  keep  up  with  him,  and  speaking  in  a  low,  harsh, 
hurried  voice,  as  if  thrusting  the  words  into  his  ears, 
"  naither  mair  nor  less  nor  solid  gowd  —  pure  gowd, 
no  a  grain  o'  alloy !  " 

That  said,  he  turned,  went  back  at  the  same  speed, 
shot  himself  into  his  cottage,  and  closed  the  door. 

The  father  and  son  stopped,  and  looked  at  each 
other  for  a  moment.  Then  the  laird  walked  slowly 
on.  After  a  minute  or  two,  Cosmo  glanced  up  in  his 
face,  but  his  father  did  not  return  the  glance,  and  the 
boy  saw  that  he  was  talking  to  another.  By  and  by 
he  heard  him  murmur  to  himself,  "  The  gifts  of  God 
are  without  repentance." 

Not  a  word  passed  between  them  as  they  went 
home,  though  all  the  time  it  seemed  to  both  father 
and  son  that  they  were  holding  closest  converse.  The 
moment  they  reached  the  castle,  the  laird  went  to  his 
room — to  the  closet  where  his  few  books  lay,  and 
got  out  a  volume  of  an  old  cyclopaedia,  where  he  read 
all  he  could  find  about  gold.  Thence  descending  to 
the  kitchen,  he  rummaged  out  a  rusty  old  pair  of 
scales,  and  with  their  help  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  the  horse  weighed  about  three  pounds  avoirdu- 
pois :  it  might  be  worth  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds.  Ready  money,  this  was  a  treasure  in  the 
eyes  of  one  whose  hand  had  seldom  indeed  closed 
upon  more  than  ten  pounds  at  once.     Here  was  large 


298  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

provision  for  the  four  years  of  his  boy's  college  life  ! 
Nor  was  the  margin  it  would  leave  for  his  creditors 
by  any  means  too  small  for  consideration  !  It  is  true 
the  golden  horse,  hoofs,  and  skin,  and  hair  of  jewels, 
could  do  but  little  towards  the  carting  away  of  the 
barrow  of  debt  that  crushed  Glenwarlock;  but  not 
the  less  was  it  a  heavenly  messenger  of  good  will  to 
the  laird.  There  are  who  are  so  pitiful  over  the  poor 
man,  that,  finding  they  cannot  lift  him  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  providence  which  intends  there  shall 
always  be  the  poor  on  the  earth,  will  do  for  him  noth- 
ing at  all. 

"  Where  is  the  use  ?  "  they  say.  They  treat  their 
money  like  their  children,  and  would  not  send  it  into 
a  sad  house.  If  they  had  themselves  no  joys  but 
their  permanent  ones,  where  would  the  hearts  of 
them  be  ?  Can  such  have  a  notion  of  the  relief,  the 
glad  rebound  of  the  heart  of  the  poor  man,  the  in- 
burst  of  light,  the  re-creation  of  the  world,  when 
help,  however  temporary,  reaches  him  ?  A  man  like 
the  laird  of  Glenwarlock,  capable  of  a  large  outlook, 
one  that  reaches  beyond  the  wide-spread  skirts  of 
his  poverty,  sees  in  it  an  arc  of  the  mighty  rainbow 
that  circles  the  world,  a  well  in  the  desert  he  is  cross- 
ing to  the  pastures  of  red  kine  and  woolly  sheep.  It 
is  to  him  a  foretaste  of  the  final  deliverance.  While 
the  rich  giver  is  saying,  "  Poor  fellow,  he  will  be  just 
as  bad  next  month  again  !  "  the  poor  fellow  is  breath- 
ing the  airs  of  paradise,  reaping  more  joy  of  life  in 
half  a  day  than  his  benefactor  in  half  a  year,  for  help 
is  a  quick  seed  and  of  rapid  growth,  and  bourgeons 
in  a  moment  into  the  infinite  aeons.     Everything  in 


THE    WATCHMAKER.  299 

this  world  is  but  temporary:  why  should  temporary 
help  be  undervalued  ?  Would  you  not  pull  out  a 
drowning  bather  because  he  will  bathe  again  to-mor- 
row ?  The  only  question  is  —  does  it  help  ?  Jonah 
might  grumble  at  the  withering  of  his  gourd,  but  if  it 
had  not  grown  at  all,  would  he  ever  have  preached  to 
Nineveh  ?  It  set  the  laird  on  a  Pisgah-rock,  whence 
he  gazed  into  the  promised  land. 

The  rich,  so  far  as  money-needs  are  concerned, 
live  under  a  cloudless  sky  of  summer  —  dreary  rather 
and  shallow,  it  seems  to  me,  however  lovely  its  blue 
light ;  when  for  the  poor  man  a  breach  is  made 
through  a  vaporous  firmament,  he  sees  deeper  into 
the  blue  because  of  the  framing  clouds  —  sees  up  to 
worlds  invisible  in  the  broad  glare.  I  know  not  how 
the  born-rich,  still  less  those  who  have  given  them- 
selves with  success  to  the  making  of  m^ney,  can  learn 
that  God  is  the  all  in  all  of  men,  for  this  world's 
needs  as  well  as  for  the  eternal  needs.  I  know  they 
may  learn  it,  for  the  Lord  has  said  that  God  can  even 
teach  the  rich,  and  I  have  known  of  them  who  seemed 
to  know  .it  as  well  as  any  poor  man ;  but  speaking 
generally,  the  rich  have  not  the  same  opportunity  of 
knowing  God  —  nor  the  same  conscious  need  of  him 
—  that  the  poor  man  has.  And  when,  after  a  few 
years,  all,  so  far  as  things  to  have  and  to  hold  are 
concerned,  are  alike  poor,  and  all,  as  far  as  any  need 
of  them  is  concerned,  are  alike  rich,  the  advantage 
will  all  be  on  the  side  of  such  as,  neither  having  nor 
needing,  do  not  desire  them.  In  the  meantime,  the 
rich  man  who,  without  pitying  his  friend  that  he  is 
not  rich  also,  cheerfully  helps  him  over  a  stone  where 


300  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK 

he  cannot  carry  him  up  the  hill  of  his  difficulty,  re- 
joicing to  do  for  him  what  God  allows,  is  like  God 
himself,  the  great  lover  of  his  children,  who  gives  a 
man  infinitely,  though  he  will  not  take  from  him  his 
suffering  until  strength  is  perfected  in  his  weak- 
ness. 

The  laird  called  Cosmo,  and  they  went  out  to- 
gether for  a  walk  in  the  fields,  where  they  might 
commune  in  quiet.  There  they  talked  over  the  cal- 
culation the  laird  had  made  of  the  probable  worth  of 
the  horse ;  and  the  father,  unlike  most  prudent  men, 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  warn  his  son  against  too 
sure  an  expectation,  and  so  prepare  him  for  the  con- 
sequence of  a  possible  mistake  ;  he  did  not  imagine 
that  disappointment,  like  the  small-pox,  requires  the 
vaccination  of  apprehension  —  that  a  man,  lest  he 
should  be  more  miserable  afterwards,  must  make 
himself  miserable  now.  In  matters  of  hope  as  well 
as  fear,  he  judged  the  morrow  must  look  after  itself ; 
believed  the  God  who  to-day  is  alive  in  to-morrow, 
looks  after  our  affairs  there  where  we  cannot  be.  I 
am  far  from  sure  that  the  best  preparation  for  a 
disappointment  is  not  the  hope  that  precedes 
it. 

Friends,  let  us  hold  by  our  hopes.  All  colours  are 
shreds  of  the  rainbow.  There  is  a  rainbow  of  the 
cataract,  of  the  paddle-wheel,  of  the  falling  wave  : 
none  of  them  is  the  rainbow,  yet  they  are  all  of  it ; 
and  if  they  vanish,  so  does  the  first,  the  arch-rain- 
bow, the  bow  set  in  the  cloud,  while  that  which  set  it 
there,  and  will  set  it  again,  vanishes  never.  Ail 
things  here  pass  ;  yet  say  not  they  are  but  hopes.     It 


THE   WATCHMAKER.  3OI 

is  because  they  are  not  the  thing  hoped  for  that  they 
are  precious  —  the  very  opals  of  the  soul.  By  oui; 
hopes  are  we  saved.  There  is  many  a  thing  we 
could  do  better  without  than  the  hope  of  it,  for  our, 
hopes  ever  point  beyond  the  thing  hoped  for.  The 
bow  is  the  damask  flower  on  the  woven  tear-drops  of 
the  world ;  hope  is  the  shimmer  on  the  dingy  warp 
of  trouble  shot  with  the  golden  woof  of  God's  intent. 
Nothing  almost  sees  miracles  but  misery. 

Cosmo  never  forgot  that  walk  in  the  fields  with  his 
father.  When  the  money  was  long  gone  after  the 
melted  horse,  that  hour  spent  chiefly  amongst  the 
great  horse-gozvans  that  adorned  the  thin  soil  of  one 
of  the  few  fields  yet  in  some  poor  sense  their  own,  re- 
mained with  him  —  to  be  his  for  ever  —  a  portion  of 
the  inheritance  of  the  meek.  The  joy  had  brought 
their  hearts  yet  closer  to  each  other,  for  one  of  the 
lovelinesses  of  true  love  is  that  it  may  and  must  always 
be  more.  In  a  gravelly  hollow,  around  which  rose 
hillocks,  heaped  by  far  off  tides  in  times  afar,  they 
knelt  together  on  the  thin  grass,  among  the  ox-eyes, 
and  gave  God  thanks  for  the  golden  horse  on 
which  Cosmo  was  to  ride  to  the  temple  of  knowl- 
edge. 

After,  they  sat  a  long  time  talking  over  the  strange 
thing.  All  these  years  had  the  lump  of  gold  been 
lying  in  the  house,  ready  for  their  great  need  !  For 
what  was  lands,  or  family,  or  ancient  name,  to  the 
learning  that  opens  doors,  the  hand-maiden  of  the 
understanding,  which  is  the  servant  of  wisdom,  who 
reads  in  the  heart  of  him  who  made  the  heaven  and 
the  earth  and  the  sea  and  the  fountains  of  water  and 


302  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

the  conscience  of  man  !  Then  they  began  to  imagine 
together  how  the  thing  had  come  to  pass.  It  could 
hardly  be  that  the  old  captain  did  not  know  what  a 
thing  he  gave  !  Doubtless  he  had  intended  sometime, 
perhaps  in  the  knowledge  of  approaching  death,  to  say 
something  concerning  it,  and  in  the  meantime,  prob- 
ably, with  cunning  for  its  better  safety,  had  treated  it 
as  a  thing  of  value,  but  of  value  comparatively 
slight !  How  had  it  come  into  existence,  they  next 
asked  each  other.  Either  it  had  belonged  to  some 
wealthy  prince,  they  concluded,  or  the  old  captain 
had  got  it  made  for  himself,  as  a  convenient  shape  in 
which  to  carry  with  him,  if  not  ready  money,  yet 
available  wealth.  Cosmo  suggested  that  possibly^ 
for  better  concealment,  it  had  been  silvered ;  ancj 
the  laird  afterwards  learned  from  the  jeweller  tg 
whom  he  sold  it,  that  such  was  indeed  the  case.  I 
may  mention  also  that  its  worth  exceeded  the  laird's 
calculation,  chiefly  because  of  the  tiny  jewels  with 
which  it  was  studded. 

Cosmo  repeated  to  his  father  the  rime  he  had 
learned  from  dreaming  Grannie,  and  told  him  how  he 
heard  it  that  time  he  lay  a  night  in  her  house,  and 
what  Grannie  herself  said  about  it,  and  now  the  laird 
smiled,  and  now  he  looked  grave ;  but  neither  of 
them  saw  how  to  connect  the  rime  with  the  horse  of 
gold.  For  one  thing,  great  as  was  the  wealth  it 
brought  them,  the  old  captain  could  hardly  have  ex- 
pected it  to  embolden  any  one  to  the  degree  of  arro- 
gance specified.  What  man  would  call  the  king  his 
brother  on  the  strength  of  a  hundred  and  fiftj 
pounds  ? 


THE   WATCHMAKER.  303 

When  Grizzle  learned  the  result  of  her  advice,  she 
said  "  Praise  be  thankit ! "  and  turned  away.  The 
next  moment  Cosmo  heard  her  murmuring  to  herself, 

**  Whan  the  coo  loups  ovver  the  mune, 
The  reid  gowd  rains  intil  men's  shune," 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE    LUMINOUS    NIGHT. 


That  night  Cosmo  could  not  sleep.  It  was  a  warm 
summer  night,  though  not  yet  summer- — a  soft  dewy- 
night,  full  of  genial  magic  and  growth  —  as  if  some 
fire-bergs  of  summer  had  drifted  away  out  into  the 
spring,  and  got  melted  up  in  it.  He  dressed  himself, 
and  went  out.  It  was  cool,  deliciously  cool,  and 
damp,  but  with  no  shiver.  The  stars  were  bright- 
eyed  as  if  they  had  been  weeping,  and  were  so  joy- 
ously consoled  that  they  forgot  to  wipe  away  their 
tears.  They  were  bright  but  not  clear — large  and 
shimmering,  as  if  reflected  from  some  invisible  sea, 
not  immediately  present  to  his  eyes.  The  gulfs  in 
which  they  floated  were  black  blue  with  profundity. 
There  was  no  moon,  but  the  night  was  yet  so  far 
from  dark,  that  it  seemed  conscious  throughout  of 
some  distant  light  that  illumined  it  without  shine. 
And  his  heart  felt  like  the  night,  as  if  it  held  a  deeper 
life  than  he  could  ever  know.  He  wandered  on  till 
he  came  to  the  field  where  he  had  so  lately  been  with 
304 


THE    LUMINOUS    NIGHT.  305 

his  father.  He  was  not  thinking;  any  effort  would 
break  the  world-mirror  in  which  he  moved !  For  the 
moment  he  would  be  but  a  human  plant,  gathering 
comfort  from  the  soft  coolness  and  the  dew,  when  the 
sun  had  ceased  his  demands.  The  coolness  and  the 
dew  sank  into  him,  and  made  his  soul  long  for  the 
thing  that  waits  the  asking.  He  came  to  the  spot 
where  his  father  and  he  had  prayed  together,  and 
there  kneeling  lifted  up  his  face  to  the  stars.  Oh 
mighty,  only  church !  whose  roof  is  a  vaulted  infini- 
tude !  whose  lights  come  burning  from  the  heart  of 
the  Maker!  church  of  all  churches  —  where  the  Son 
of  Man  prayed!  In  the  narrow  temple  of  Herod  he 
taught  the  people,  and  from  it  drove  the  dishonest 
traders  ;  but  here,  under  the  starry  roof,  was  his  house 
of  prayer !  church  where  not  a  mark  is  to  be  seen  of 
human  hand !  church  that  is  all  church,  and  nothing 
but  church,  built  without  hands,  despised  and  desecra- 
ted through  unbelief  !  church  of  God's  building !  thou 
alone  in  thy  grandeur  art  fitting  type  of  a  yet  greater, 
a  yet  holier  church,  whose  stars  are  the  burying 
eyes  of  unutterable,  self-forgetting  love,  whose  wor- 
ship is  a  ceaseless  ministration  of  self-forgetting 
deeds — the  one  real  ideal  church,  the  body  of  the 
living  Christ,  built  of  the  hearts  and  souls  of  men 
and  women  out  of  every  nation  and  every  creed, 
through  all  time  and  over  all  the  world,  redeemed 
alike  from  Judaism,  paganism,  and  all  the  false  Chris- 
tianities that  darken  and  dishonor  the  true. 

Cosmo,  I  say,  knelt,  and  looked  up.  Then  will 
awoke,  and  he  lifted  up  his  heart,  sending  aloft  his 
soul  on  every   holy  sail  it  could  spread,  on  all  the 


3o6  WARLOCK   O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

wings  it  could  put  forth,  as  if,  through  the  visible^ 
he  would  force  his  way  to  the  invisible. 

Softly  through  the  blue  night  came  a  gentle  call : 

"  Cosmo." 

He  started,  not  with  fear,  looked  round,  but  saw- 
no  one. 

"  Cosmo  !  "  came  the  call  again. 

The  sky  was  shining  with  the  stars,  and  that  other 
light  that  might  be  its  own  ;  other  than  the  stars  and 
the  sky  he  saw  nothing.  He  looked  all  round  his 
narrow  horizon,  the  edge  of  the  hollow  between  him 
and  the  sky,  where  the  heaven  and  the  earth  met 
among  the  stars  and  the  grass,  and  the  stars  shim- 
mered like  glow-worms  among  the  thin  stalks  :  noth- 
ing was  there  ;  its  edge  was  unbroken  by  other  shape 
than  grass,  daisies,  ox-eyes,  and  stars.  A  soft  dreamy 
wind  came  over  the  edge,  and  breathed  once  on  his 
cheek.     The  voice  came  again  — 

"  Cosmo  !  " 

It  seemed  to  come  from  far  away,  so  soft  and 
gentle  was  it,  and  yet  it  seemed  near. 

*^It  has  called  me  three  times!  "  said  Cosmo,  and 
rose  to  his  feet. 

There  was  the  head  of  Simon  Peter,  as  some 
called  him,  rising  like  a  dark  sun  over  the  top  of 
the  hollow !  In  the  faint  light  Cosmo  knew  him 
at  once,  gave  a  cry  of  pleasure,  and  ran  to  meet  him. 

"  You  called  so  softly,"  said  Cosmo,  "  I  did  not 
know  your  voice." 

"  And  you  are  disappointed  !  You  thought  it  was 
a  voice  from  some  region  beyond  this  world  !  I  am 
sorry.     I  called  softly,  because  I  wanted  to  let  you 


A  VAULTED   INFINITUDE. 


THE    LUMINOUS    NIGHT.  309 

know  I  was  coming,  and  was  afraid  of  startling  you." 
"  I  confess,"  replied  Cosmo,  "  a  little  hope  was 
beginning  to  flutter,  that  perhaps  I  was  called  from 
somewhere  in  the  unseen  —  like  Samuel,  you  know ; 
but  I  was  too  glad  to  see  you  to  be  much  disap- 
pointed. I  do  sometimes  wonder  though,  that,  if 
there  is  such  a  world  beyond  as  we  sometime  talk 
about,  there  should  be  so  little  communication  be- 
tween it  and  us.  When  I  •am  out  in  the  still  time  of 
this  world,  and  there  is  nothing  to  interfere,  —  when 
I  am  not  even  thinking,  so  as  to  close  my  doors,  why 
should  never  anything  come  ?  Never  in  my  life  have 
I  had  one  whisper  from  that  world." 

"  You  are  saying  a  great  deal  more  than  you  can  poj 
sibly  know,  Cosmo,"  answered  Mr.  Simon.  "  You  hav 
had  no  communication  recognized  by  you  as  such,  i 
grant.  And  I,  who  am  so  much  older  than  you,  mus/ 
say  the  same.  If  there  be  any  special  fitness  in  thi 
night,  in  its  absorbing  dimness,  and  isolating  silence, 
for  such  communication  —  and  who  can  well  doubt 
it  ?  —  I  have  put  myself  in  the  heart  of  it  a  thous- 
and times,  when,  longing  after  an  open  vision,  I 
should  have  counted  but  the  glimpse  of  a  ghostly 
garment  the  mightiest  boon,  but  never  therefrom  has 
the  shadow  of  a  feather  fallen  upon  me.  Yet  here  I 
am,  hoping  no  less,  and  believing  no  less  !  The  air 
around  me  may  be  full  of  ghosts  —  I  do  not  know  ;  I 
delight  to  think  they  may  somehow  be  with  us,  for 
all  they  are  so  unseen  ;  but  so  long  as  I  am  abU 
to  believe  and  hope  in  the  one  great  ghost,  the  Holy 
Ghost  that  fills  all,  it  would  trouble  me  little  to  learn 
that  betwixt  me  and  the  visible  centre  was  nothing 


3IO         WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 


but  what  the  senses  of  men  may  take  account  of.  If 
there  be  a  God,  he  is  all  in  all,  and  filleth  all  things, 
and  all  is  well.  What  matter  where  the  region  of  the 
dead  may  be  ?  Nowhere  but  here  are  they  called 
the  dead.  When,  of  all  paths,  that  to  God  is  alone 
always  open,  and  alone  can  lead  the  wayfarer  to  the 
end  of  his  journey,  why  should  I  stop  to  peer  through 
the  fence  either  side  of  that  path  ?  If  he  does  not 
care  to  reveal,  is  it  well,  I  should  make  haste  to 
know  ?  I  shall  know  one  day,  why  should  I  be  eager 
to  know  now } " 

"  But  why  might  not  something  show  itself  once  — 
just  for  once,  if  only  to  give  one  a  start  in  the  right 
direction  ?  "  said  Cosmo. 

"  I  will  tell  you  one  reason,"  returned  Mr.  Simon, 
'*  —  the  same  why  everything  is  as  it  is,  and  neither 
this  nor  that  other  way  —  namely,  that  it  is  best  for 
us  it  should  be  as  it  is.  But  I  think  I  can  see  a 
little  way  into  it.  Suppose  you  saw  something 
Strange  —  a  sign  or  a  wonder  —  one  of  two  things,  it 
seems  to  me  likely,  would  follow  :  —  you  would  either 
doubt  it  the  moment  it  had  vanished,  or  it  would 
grow  to  you  as  one  of  the  common  things  of  your 
daily  life  —  which  are  indeed  in  themselves  equally 
wonderful.  Evidently,  if  visions  would  make  us  sure, 
God  does  not  care  about  the  kind  of  sureness  they 
can  give,  or  for  our  being  made  sure  in  that  way.  A 
thing  that  gained  in  one  way,  might  be  of  less  than 
no  value  to  us,  gained  in  another,  might,  as  a  vital 
part  of  the  process,  be  invaluable.  God  will  have  us 
sure  of  a  thing  by  knowing  the  heart  whence  it 
comes ;  that  is  the  only  worthy  assurance.     To  know, 


THE    LUMINOUS    NIGHT.  31I 

he  will  have  us  go  in  at  the  great  door  of  obedient 
faith;  and  if  anybody  thinks  he  has  found  a  back- 
stair,  he  will  find  it  land  him  at  a  doorless  wall.  It 
is  the  assurance  that  comes  of  inmost  beholding  of 
himself,  of  seeing  what  he  is,  that  God  cares  to 
produce  in  us.  Nor  would  he  have  us  think  we 
know  him  before  we  do,  for  thereby  thousands  walk 
in  a  vain  show.  At  the  same  time  I  am  free  to 
imagine  if  I  imagine  holily  —  that  is,  as  his  child. 
And  I  imagine  space  full  of  life  invisible ;  imagine 
that  the  young  man  needed  but  the  opening  of  his 
eyes  to  see  the  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  around  his 
master,  an  inner  circle  to  the  horses  and  chariots 
that  encompassed  the  city  to  take  him.  As  I  came 
now  through  the  fields,  I  lost  myself  for  a  time  in  the 
feeling  that  I  was  walking  in  the  midst  of  lovely 
people  I  have  known,  some  in  person,  some  by  their 
books.-  Perhaps  they  were  with  me  —  are  with  me  — 
are  speaking  to  me  now.  For  if  all  our  thoughts, 
from  whatever  source,  whether  immediately  from  God, 
or  through  ourselves,  seem  to  enter  the  chamber  of 
our  consciousness  by  the  same  door,  why  may  it  not 
be  so  with  some  that  come  to  us  from  other  beings  ? 
Why  may  not  the  dead  speak  to  me,  and  I  be  unable 
to  distinguish  their  words  from  my  thoughts  ?  The 
«noment  a  thought  is  given  me,  my  own  thought 
i-ushes  to  mingle  with  it,  and  I  can  no  more  part 
^em.  Some  stray  hints  from  the  world  beyond  may 
ningle  even  with  the  folly  and  stupidity  of  my 
ireams." 

"  But    if    you   cannot    distinguish,   where    is   the 
^ood  ?  "  Cosmo  ventured  to  ask. 


312  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Nowhere  for  deductive  certainty.  Nor,  if  the 
things  themselves  are  not  worth  remembering,  or 
worthy  of  influencing  us,  is  there  any  good  in  enquir- 
ing concerning  them  ?  Shall  I  mind  a  thing  that  ia 
not  worth  minding,  because  it  came  to  me  in  a  dream, 
or  was  told  me  by  a  ghost  ?  It  is  the  quality  of  \ 
thing,  not  how  it  arrived,  that  is  the  point.  But  true 
things  are  often  mingled  with  things  grotesque.  For 
aught  I  know,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  a  spirit  may 
be  taking  advantage  of  the  door  set  ajar  by  sleep,  to 
whisper  a  message  of  love  or  repentance,  and  the 
troubled  brain  or  heart  or  stomach  may  be  sending 
forth  fumes  that  cloud  the  vision,  and  cause  evil 
echoes  to  mingle  with  the  hearing.  When  you  look 
at  any  bright  thing  for  a  time,  and  then  close  your 
eyes,  you  still  see  the  shape  of  it,  but  in  different 
colours.  This  figure  has  come  to  you  from  the  out- 
side world,  but  the  brain  has  altered  it.  Even  thQ 
shape  itself  is  reproduced  with  but  partial  accuracy; 
some  imperfection  in  the  recipient  sense,  or  in  the  re» 
ceptacle,  sends  imperfection  into  the  presentation. 
In  a  way  something  similar  may  our  contact  with  the 
dwellers  beyond  fare  in  our  dreams.  My  unknown 
mother  may  be  talking  to  me  in  my  sleep,  and  up 
rises  some  responsive  but  stupid  dream-cloud  of  my 
own,  and  mingles  with  and  ruins  the  descended 
grace.  But  it  is  well  to  remind  you  again  that  the 
things  around  us  are  just  as  full  of  marvel  as  those 
into  which  you  are  so  anxious  to  look.  Our  people 
in  the  other  world,  although  they  have  proved  these 
earthly  things  before,  probably  now  feel  them  strange, 
and  full  of  a  marvel  the  things  about  them  have  lost 


THE   LUMINOUS   NIGHT.  313 

All  is  well.  The  only  thing  worth  a  man's  care  is 
the  will  of  God,  and  that  will  is  the  same  whether  in 
this  world  or  in  the  next.  That  will  has  made  this 
world  ours,  not  the  next ;  for  nothing  can  be  ours 
until  God  has  given  it  to  us.  Curiosity  is  but  the 
contemptible  human  shadow  of  the  holy  thing  wonder. 
No,  my  son,  let  us  make  the  best  we  can  of  this  life, 
that  we  may  become  able  to  make  the  best  of  the 
next  also." 

"  And  how  make  the  best  of  this  ? "  asked  Cosmo. 

"Simply  by  falling  in  with  God's  design  in  the 
making  of  you.  That  design  must  be  worked  out  — 
cannot  be  worked  out  without  you.  You  must  walk 
in  the  front  of  things  with  the  will  of  God  —  not  be 
dragged  in  the  sweep  of  his  garment  that  makes  the 
storm  behind  him !  To  walk  with  God  is  to  go  hand 
in  hand  with  him,  like  a  boy  with  his  father.  Then, 
as  to  the  other  world,  or  any  world,  as  to  the  past 
sorrow,  the  vanished  joy,  the  coming  fear,  all  is  well; 
for  the  design  of  the  making,  the  loving,  the  pitiful, 
the  beautiful  God,  is  marching  on  towards  divine 
completion,  that  is,  a  never  ending  one.  Yea,  if  it 
please  my  sire  that  his  infinite  be  awful  to  me,  yet 
will  I  face  it,  for  it  is  his.  Let  your  prayer,  my  son, 
be  like  this :  '  O  Maker  of  me,  go  on  making  me,  and 
let  me  help  thee.  Come,  O  Father  !  here  I  am  ;  let 
us  go  on.  I  know  that  my  words  are  those  of  a  child, 
but  it  is  thy  child  who  prays  to  thee.  It  is  thy  dark 
I  walk  in ;  it  is  thy  hand  I  hold.'  " 

The  words  of  his  teacher  sank  into  the  heart  of 
Cosmo,  for  his  spirit  was  already  in  the  lofty  condition 
of  capacity  for  receiving  wisdom  direct  from  another. 


314  WARLOCK   O     GLEN  WARLOCK. 

It  is  a  lofty  condition,  and  they  who  scorn  it  but  sho^f 
they  have  not  reached  it  —  nor  are  likely  to  reach  it 
soon.  Such  as  will  not  be  taught  through  eye  or  ear, 
must  be  taught  through  the  skin,  and  that  is  generally 
a  long  as  well  as  a  painful  process.  All  Cosmo's 
superiority  came  of  his  having  faith  in  those  who. 
were  higher  than  he.  True,  he  had  not  yet  been 
tried;  but  the  trials  of  a  pure,  honest,  teachable 
youth,  must,  however  severe,  be  very  different  from 
those  of  one  unteachable.  The  former  are  for 
growth,  the  latter  for  change. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


AT   COLLEGE. 


The  summer  and  autumn  had  yet  to  pass  before  he 
left  home  for  the  university  of  the  north.  He  spent 
them  in  steady  work  with  Mr.  Simon.  But  the 
steadier  his  work,  and  the  greater  his  enjoyment  of  it, 
the  dearer  was  his  Uberty,  and  the  keener  his  delight 
in  the  world  around  him.  He  worked  so  well  that  he 
could  afford  to  dream  too ;  and  his  excursions  and 
his  imaginings  alike  took  wide  and  wider  sweeps ; 
while  for  both,  ever  in  the  near  or  far  distance,  lay  the 
harbour,  the  nest  of  his  home.  It  drew  him  even  when 
it  lay  behind  him,  and  he  returned  to  it  as  the  goal  he 
had  set  out  to  seek.  It  was  as  if,  in  every  excursion 
or  flight,  he  had  but  sought  to  find  his  home  afresh, 
to  approach  it  by  a  new  path.  But  —  the  wind-fall  ? 
—  nay,  the  God-send  of  the  golden  horse,  gave  him 
such  a  feeling  of  wealth  and  freedom,  that  he  now 
began  to  dream  in  a  fresh  direction,  namely,  of  things 
he  would  do  if  he  were  rich ;  and  as  he  was  of  a  con- 
structive disposition,  his  fancies  in  this  direction 
315 


3l6         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

turned  chiefly  on  the  enlarging  and  beautifying  of  the 
castle  —  but  always  with  the  impossibility  understood 
of  destroying  a  feature  of  its  ancient  dignity  and  his- 
toric worth. 

A  portion  of  the  early  summer  he  spent  in  enlarg- 
ing the  garden  on  the  south  side  or  back  of  the  house. 
One  portion  of  the  ground  there  seemed  to  him  to 
have  been  neglected  —  the  part  which  lay  between 
the  block  in  which  was  the  kitchen,  and  that  in  which 
was  the  drawing-room.  These  stood  at  right  angles 
to  each  other,  their  gables  making  two  sides  of  a 
square.  But  he  found  the  rock  so  near  the  surface, 
that  he  could  not  utilize  much  of  it.  This  set  him 
planning  how  the  space  might  be  used  for  building. 
In  the  angle,  the  rock  came  above  ground  entirely, 
and  had  been  made  the  foundation  of  a  wall  connect- 
ing the  two  corners,  to  defend  the  court  —  a  thick 
strong  wall  of  huge  stones,  that  seemed  as  solid  as 
the  rock.  He  grew  fond  of  the  spot,  almost  forsak- 
ing for  it  his  formerly  favoured  stone,  and  in  the 
pauses  of  his  gardening  would  sit  with  his  back 
against  this  wall,  dreaming  of  the  days  to  come. 
Here  also  he  would  bring  his  book,  and  read  or  write 
for  hours,  sometimes  drawing  plans  of  the  changes 
and  additions  he  would  make,  of  the  passages  and 
galleries  that  might  be  contrived  to  connect  the  va- 
rious portions  of  the  house,  and  of  the  restoration  of 
old  defences.  The  whole  thing  was  about  as  vision- 
ary as  his  dream  of  Tree-top-city,  but  it  exercised  his 
constructive  faculty,  and  exercise  is  growth,  and 
growth  in  any  direction,  if  the  heart  be  true,  is  growth 
in  all  directions. 


AT    COLLEGE.  317 


The  days  glided  by.  The  fervid  Summer  slid  away 
round  the  shoulder  of  the  world,  and  made  room  for 
her  dignified  matron  sister ;  my  lady  Autumn  swept 
her  frayed  and  discoloured  train  out  of  the  great  hall- 
door  of  the  world,  and  old  brother  Winter,  who  so 
assiduously  waits  upon  the  house,  and  cleans  its  in- 
nermost recesses,  was  creeping  around  it,  biding  his 
time,  but  eager  to  get  to  his  work.  The  day  drew 
near  when  Cosmo  must  leave  the  house  of  his  fathers, 
the  walls  that  framed  almost  all  his  fancies,  the  home 
where  it  was  his  unchanging  dream  to  spend  his  life, 
until  he  went  to  his  mother  in  heaven. 

I  will  not  follow  his  intellectual  development.  The 
real  education  of  the  youth  is  enough  for  my  narra- 
tive. 

His  mind  was  too  much  filled  with  high  hopes  and 
lofty  judgments,  to  be  tempted  like  a  common  nature 
in  the  new  circumstances  in  which  he  found  himself. 
There  are  not  a  few  who,  believing  of  others  as  they 
are  themselves,  and  teaching  as  they  practise,  repre- 
sent the  youth  of  the  nation  as  necessarily  vile ;  but 
let  not  the  pure  thence  imagine  there  is  no  one  pure 
but  himself.  There  is  life  in  our  nation  yet,  and  a 
future  for  her  yet,  none  the  less  that  the  weak  and 
cowardly  and  self-indulgent  neither  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God,  nor  work  any  salvation  in  the  earth. 
Cosmo  left  the  university  at  least  as  clean  as  he  went 
to  it. 

He  had  few  companions.  Those  whom  he  liked 
best  could  not  give  him  much.  They  looked  up  to 
him  far  more  than  he  knew,  for  they  had  a  vague 
suspicion  that  he  was  a  genius ;  but  they  ministered 


3l8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

almost  only  to  his  heart.  The  unworthy  amongst 
his  fellow-students  scorned  him  with  looks  askance, 
and  called  him  Baby  Warlock — for  on  more  than 
one  of  them  he  had  literally  turned  his  back  when 
his  conversation  displeased  him.  None  of  them 
however  cared  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him.  The 
devil  finds  it  easier  to  persuade  fools  that  there  is 
dignity  in  the  knowledge  of  evil,  and  that  ignorance 
of  it  is  contemptible,  than  to  give  them  courage. 
Truly,  if  ignorance  is  the  foundation  of  any  man's 
goodness,  it  is  not  worth  the  wind  that  upsets  it,  but 
in  its  mere  self,  ignorance  of  evil  is  a  negative  good. 
It  is  those  who  do  not  love  good  that  require  to  be 
handed  over  to. evil.  The  grinders  did  not  care  about 
Cosmo,  for  neither  was  he  of  their  sort.  Now  and 
then,  however,  one  of  them  would  be  mildly  startled 
by  a  request  from  him  for  assistance  in  some  pas- 
sage, which,  because  he  did  not  go  in  for  what  they 
counted  scholarship,  they  could  hardly  believe  him 
interested.  Cosmo  regarded  everything  from  amidst 
associations  of  which  they  had  none.  In  his  instinc- 
tive reach  after  life,  he  assimilated  all  food  that 
came  in  his  way.  His  growing  life  was  his  sole  im- 
pulsive after  knowledge.  And  already  he  saw  a 
glimmer  here  and  there  in  regions  of  mathematics 
from  which  had  never  fallen  a  ray  into  the  corner  of 
an  eye  of  those  grinding  men.  That  was  because  he 
read  books  of  poetry  and  philosophy  of  which  they 
had  never  heard.  For  the  rest,  he  passed  his  exami- 
nations creditably,  and  indeed,  in  more  than  one 
case,  with  unexpected  as  unsought  distinction.  I 
must  mention,  however,  that  he  did  all  his  set  work 


AT   COLLEGE.  319 


first,  and  thoroughly,  before  giving  himself  what  he 
hungered  after. 

Of  society  in  the  city  he  had  no  knowledge. 
Amongst  the  tradespeople  he  made  one  or  two  ac- 
quaintances. 

His  father  had  been  so  much  pleased  with  the 
jeweller  to  whom  he  parted  with  the  golden  horse, 
that  he  requested  Cosmo  to  call  upon  him  as  soon  as 
he  was  settled.  Cosmo  found  him  a  dignified  old 
gentleman  —  none  the  less  of  a  gentleman,  and  all 
the  more  of  a  man,  that  he  had  in  his  youth  worked 
with  his  own  hands.  He  took  a  liking  to  Cosmo, 
and,  much  pleased  with  his  ready  interest  in  what- 
ever he  told  him,  for  Cosmo  was  never  tired  of  lis- 
tening to  anyone  who  talked  of  what  he  knew,  made 
him  acquainted  with  many  things  belonging  to  his 
trade,  and  communicated  many  of  his  experiences. 
Indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  any  to  whom  he  had  not 
first  learned  to  look  up,  nobody  ever  listened  better 
than  Cosmo  to  any  story  of  human  life,  however 
humble.  Everybody  seemed  to  him  of  his  own  fam- 
ily. The  greater  was  the  revulsion  of  his  feeling 
when  he  came  upon  anything  false  in  character  or 
low  in  behaviour.  He  was  then  severe,  even  to  utter 
breach.  Incapable  of  excusing  himself,  he  was  inca- 
pable also  of  excusing  others.  But  though  gentleness 
towards  the  faults  of  others  is  an  indispensable  fruit 
of  life,  it  is  perhaps  well  it  should  be  a  comparatively 
late  one  :  there  is  danger  of  foreign  excuse  reacting 
on  home  conduct.  Excuse  ought  to  be  rooted  in 
profoundest  obedience,  and  outgoing  love.  To  say 
anything  is  too  small  to  matter,  is  of  the  devil ;  to  say 


320  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

anything  is  too  great  to  forgive,  is  not  of  God.  He 
who  would  soonest  die  to  divide  evil  and  his  fellows, 
will  be  the  readiest  to  make  for  them  all  honest  ex- 
cuse. 

Cosmo  liked  best  to  hear  Mr.  Burns  talk  about 
precious  stones.  There  he  was  great,  for  he  had  a 
passion  for  them,  and  Cosmo  was  more  than  ready  to 
be  infected  with  it.  By  the  hour  together  would  he 
discourse  of  them  ;  now  on  the  different  and  compar- 
ative merits  of  individual  stones  which  had  at  one 
time  and  another  passed  through  his  hands,  and  on 
the  way  they  were  cut,  or  ought  to  have  been  cut ;  now 
on  the  conditions  of  size,  shape,  and  water,  as  indicat- 
ing the  special  best  way  of  cutting  them  ;  now  on  the 
various  settings,  as  bringing  out  the  qualities  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  and  differing  stones. 

One  day  he  came  upon  the  subject  of  the  weather 
in  relation  to  stones :  on  such  a  sort  of  day  you  ought 
to  buy  this  or  that  kind  of  stone ;  on  such  another 
you  must  avoid  buying  this  or  that  kind,  and  seek 
rather  to  sell. 

Up  to  this  moment,  and  the  mention  of  this  last 
point,  Cosmo  had  believed  Mr.  Burns  an  immaculate 
tradesman,  but  here  the  human  gem  was  turned  at 
that  angle  to  the  light  which  revealed  the  flaw  in  it. 
There  are  tradesmen  not  a  few,  irreproachable  in  re- 
gard to  money,  who  are  not  so  in  regard  to  the  quality 
of  their  wares  in  relation  to  the  price  :  they  take  and 
do  not  give  the  advantage  of  their  superior  knowledge ; 
and  well  can  I  imagine  how  such  a  one  will  laugh  at 
the  idea  that  he  ought  not :  to  him  every  customer  is 
more  or  less  of  a  pigeon. 


AT    COLLEGE.  32 1 


"  If  I  could  but  buy  plenty  of  such  sapphires,"  said 
Mr.  Burns,  "  on  a  foggy  afternoon  like  this,  when  the 
air  is  as  yellow  as  a  cairngorm,  and  sell  them  the  first 
summer-like  day  of  spring,  I  should  make  a  fortune  in 
a  very  few  years." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  do  it,  Mr.  Bums  ?  "  Cosmo  ven- 
tured to  suggest,  in  some  foreboding  anxiety,  caused 
by  the  tone  in  which  the  man  had  spoken  :  he  would 
fain  have  an  express  repudiation  of  the  advantage  thus 
to  be  obtained. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  rejoined  Mr.  Bums,  lifting  his  keen 
gray  eyes,  with  some  wonder  in  them,  and  looking 
Cosmo  straight  in  the  face.  His  mind  also  was 
crossed  by  a  painful  doubt :  was  the  young  man  a 
mere  innocent  ?  was  he  "  no  «'  there  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  not  honest,"  replied  Cosmo. 

'*  Not  honest ! "  exclaimed  the  jeweller,  in  a  tone  loud 
with  anger,  and  deep  with  a  sense  of  injury — whether 
at  the  idea  that  he  should  be  capable  of  a  dishonest 
thing,  or  at  the  possibility  of  having,  for  honesty's 
sake,  to  yield  a  money-making  principle,  I  do  not 
know ;  "  I  present  the  thing  as  it  is,  and  leave  my 
customer  to  judge  according  to  hfs  knowledge.  Is 
mine  to  be  worth  nothing  to  me  ?  There  is  no  decep- 
tion in  the  aifair.  A  jeweller's  business  is  not  like  a 
horse-dealer's.  The  stone  is  as  God  made  it,  and  the 
day  is  as  God  made  it,  only  my  knowledge  enables  me 
to  use  both  to  better  purpose  than  my  neighbour  can." 

"  Then  a  man's  knowledge  is  for  himself  alone  — 
for  his  own  behoof  exclusively  —  not  for  the  common 
advantage  of  himself  and  his  neighbour  ? "  said 
Cosmo. 


322  WARLOCK  o'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  Mine  is  so  far  for  my  neighbour,  that  I  never  offer 
him  a  stone  that  is  not  all  I  say  it  is.  He  gets  the 
advantage  of  his  knowledge,  let  us  say,  in  selling  me 
wine,  which  he  understands  to  fit  my  taste  with ;  and 
I  get  the  advantage  of  my  knowledge  in  selling  him 
the  ring  that  pleases  him.  Both  are  satisfied.  Neither 
asks  the  other  what  he  paid  for  this  or  that.  But  why 
make  any  bones  about  it;  the  first  acknowledged 
principle  in  business  is,  to  buy  in  the  cheapest  market 
and  sell  in  the  dearest." 

"Where  does  the  love  of  your  neighbour  come  in 
then  ?  " 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  business ;  it  belongs 
to  the  relations  of  social  life.  No  command  must  be 
interpreted  so  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  obey  it. 
Business  would  come  to  a  stand-still  —  no  man  could 
make  a  fortune  that  way." 

"  You  think  then  that  what  we  are  sent  here  for  is 
to  make  a  fortune  ?  " 

"  Most  people  do.  I  don't  know  about  sent  for. 
That's  what,  I  fancy,  I  find  myself  behind  this  coun- 
ter for.  Anyhow  the  world  would  hardly  go  on  upon 
any  other  supposition." 

"  Then  the  world  had  better  stop.  It  wasn't  worth 
making,"  said  Cosmo. 

"  Young  man,"  rejoined  Mr.  Burns,  "  if  you  are 
going  to  speak  blasphemy,  it  shall  not  be  on  my 
premises." 

Bewildered  and  unhappy,  Cosmo  turned  away,  left 
the  shop,  and  for  years  never  entered  it  again. 

Mr.  Burns  had  been  scrupulous  to  half  a  grain  in 
giving  Mr.  Warlock  the  full  value  of  his  gold  and  of 


AT    COLLEGE.  323 


his  Stones.  Nor  was  this  because  of  the  Uking  he  had 
taken  to  the  old  gentleman.  There  are  not  a  few  who 
will  be  carefully  honest,  to  a  greater  or  less  compass, 
with  persons  they  like,  but  leave  those  they  do  not 
like  to  protect  themselves.  But  Mr.  Burns'  was  not 
of  their  sort.  His  interest  in  the  laird,  and  his 
wounded  liking  for  Cosmo,  did,  however,  cause  him 
to  take  some  real  concern  in  the  moral  condition  of 
the  latter;  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  was  willing 
enough  to  think  evil  of  him  who  had  denounced  as 
dishonest  one  of  his  main  principles  in  the  conduct  of 
affairs.  It  but  added  venom  to  the  sting  of  Cosmo's 
words  that  although  the  jeweller  was  scarcely  yet  con- 
scious of  the  fact,  he  was  more  unwilling  to  regard  as 
wrong  the  mode  he  had  defended,  than  capable  of  justi- 
fying it  to  himself.  That  same  evening  he  wrote  to  the 
laird  that  he  feared  his  son  must  have  taken  to  keep- 
ing bad  company,  for  he  had  that  day  spoken  in  his 
shop  in  a  manner  most  irreverent  and  indeed  wicked 
—  so  as  he  would  never^  he  was  certain,  have  dared  to 
speak  in  his  father's  hearing.  But  college  was  a  ter- 
rible place  for  ruining  the  good  principles  learned  at 
home.  He  hoped  Mr.  Warlock  would  excuse  the  in- 
terest he  took  in  his  son's  welfare.  Nothing  was 
more  sad  than  to  see  the  seed  of  the  righteous  turning 
from  the  path  of  righteousness  —  and  so  on. 

The  laird  made  reply  that  he  was  obliged  to  Mr. 
Burns  for  his  communication  and  the  interest  he  took 
in  his  boy,  but  could  only  believe  there  had  been 
some  mistake,  for  it  was  impossible  his  boy  should 
have  been  guilty  of  anything  to  which  his  father  would 
apply  the  epithets  used  by  Mr.  Burns.     And  so  little 


324         WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

did  the  thing  trouble  the  laird,  that  he  never  troubled 
Cosmo  with  a  word  on  the  matter  —  only,  when  he 
came,  home  asked  him  what  it  meant. 

But  in  after  days  Cosmo  repented  of  having  so 
completely  dropped  the  old  gentleman's  acquaint- 
ance ;  he  was  under  obligation  to  him  ;  and  if  a  man 
will  have  to  do  only  with  the  perfect,  he  must  needs 
cut  himself  first,  and  go  out  of  the  world.  He  had 
learned  a  good  deal  from  him,  but  nothing  of  art :  his 
settings  were  good,  but  of  the  commonest  ideas.  In  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  tradesmen  will  be  teachers,  but  on 
earth  it  is  their  business  to  make  fortunes !  But  a  stone, 
its  colour,  light,  quality,  he  enjoyed  like  a  poet.  Many 
with  a  child's  delight  in  pure  colours,  have  no  feeling 
for  the  melodies  of  their  arrangement,  or  the  harmo- 
nies of  their  mingling.  So  are  there  some  capable 
of  delight  in  a  single  musical  tone,  who  have  but 
little  reception  for  melody  or  complicate  harmony. 
Whether  a  condition  analogical  might  not  be  found 
in  the  moral  world,  and  contribute  to  the  explanation 
of  such  as  Mr.  Burns,  I  may  not  now  enquire. 

The  very  rainbow  was  lovelier  to  Cosmo  after 
learning  some  of  the  secrets  of  precious  stones. 
Their  study  served  also  his  metaphysico-poetic  nature, 
by  rousing  questions  of  the  relations  between  beauty 
fixed  and  beauty  evanescent ;  between  the  beauty  of 
stones  and  the  beauty  of  flowers ;  between  the  beau- 
ties of  art,  and  the  beauties  of  sunsets  and  faces.  He 
saw  that  where  life  entered,  it  brought  greater  beauty, 
with  evanescence  and  reproduction, —  an  endless 
fountain  flow  and  fall.  Many  were  the  strange,  glad- 
some, hopeful,  corrective  thoughts  born  in  him  of  the 


AT    COLLEGE. 


325 


gems  in  Mr.  Burns's  shop,  and  he  owed  the  reform 
much  to  the  man  whose  friendship  he  had  cast  from 
him.     For  every  question  is  a  door-handle. 

Cosmo  Hved  as  simply  as  at  home  —  in  some  re- 
spects more  hardly,  costing  a  sum  for  his  mainte- 
nance incredibly  small.  Some  may  hint  that  the 
education  was  on  a  par  with  the  expense;  and,  if 
education  consists  in  the  amount  and  accuracy  of 
facts  learned,  and  the  worth  of  money  in  that  poor 
country  be  taken  into  the  account,  the  hint  might  be 
allowed  to  pass.  But  if  education  is  the  supply  of 
material  to  a  growing  manhood,  the  education  there 
provided  was  all  a  man  needed  who  was  man  enough 
to  aid  his  own  growth ;  and  for  those  who  have  not 
already  reached  that  point,  it  is  matter  of  infinite 
inconsequence  what  they  or  their  parents  find  or  miss. 
But  I  am  writing  of  a  period  long  gone  by. 

In  his  second  year,  willing  to  ease  his  father  how- 
ever little,  he  sought  engagements  in  teaching;  and 
was  soon  so  far  successful  that  he  had  two  hours 
every  day  occupied  —  one  with  a  private  pupil,  and 
the  other  in  a  public  school.  The  master  of  that 
school  used  afterwards  to  say  that  the  laird  of  Glen- 
warlock  had  in  him  the  elements  of  a  real  teacher. 
But  indeed  Cosmo  had  more  teaching  power  than  the 
master  knew,  for  not  in  vain  had  he  been  the  pupil  of 
Peter  Simon  —  whose  perfection  stood  in  this,  that 
he  not  only  taught,  but  taught  to  teach.  Life  is  prop- 
agation. The  perfect  thing,  from  the  Spirit  of  God 
downwards  sends  itself  onward,  not  its  work  only,  but 
its  life.  And  in  the  reaction  Cosmo  soon  found  that, 
for  making  a  man  accurate,  there  is  nothing  like  hav- 


326  WARLOCK    O'    GLENVVARLOCK. 

ing  to  impart  what  he  possesses.  He  learned  more 
by  trying  to  teach  what  he  thought  he  knew,  than 
by  trying  to  learn  what  he  was  sure  he  did  not 
know. 

In  his  third  year  it  was  yet  more  necessary  he 
should  gain  what  money  he  could.  For  the  laird 
found  that  his  neighbour,  Lord  Lick-my-loof,  had 
been  straining  every  means  in  his  power  to  get  his 
liabilities  all  into  his  own  hands,  and  had  in  great 
part  succeeded.  The  discovery  sent  a  pang  to  the 
heart  of  the  laird,  for  he  could  hardly  doubt  his  lord- 
ship's desire  was  to  foreclose  every  mortgage,  and  com- 
pel him  to  yield  the  last  remnant  of  the  possessions 
of  his  ancestors.  He  had  refused  him  James  Gracie's 
cottage,  and  he  would  have  his  castle  !  But  the  day 
was  not  yet  come ;  and  as  no  one  knew  what  was 
best  for  his  boy,  no  one  could  foretell  what  would 
come  to  pass,  or  say  what  deliverance  might  not  be 
in  store  for  them  !  The  clouds  must  break  somehow, 
and  then  there  was  the  sun  !  So,  as  a  hundred  times 
before,  he  gathered  heart,  and  went  on,  doing  his 
best,  and  trusting  his  hardest. 

The  summers  at  home  between  the  sessions,  were 
times  of  paradise  to  Cosmo.  Now  first  he  seemed  to 
himself  to  begin  to  understand  the  simple  greatness 
of  his  father,  and  appreciate  the  teaching  of  Mr. 
Simon.  He  seemed  to  descry  the  outlines  of  the 
bases  on  which  they  stood  so  far  above  him. 

And  now  the  question  came  up,  what  was  Cosmo  to 
do  after  he  had  taken  his  degree.  It  was  impossible 
he  should  remain  at  home.  There  was  nothing  for 
him  to  do  there,  except  the  work  of  a  farm  labourer. 


AT    COLLEGE.  327 


That  he  would  have  undertaken  gladly,  had  the 
property  been  secure,  for  the  sake  of  being  with  his 
father ;  but  the  only  chance  of  relieving  the  land  was 
to  take  up  some  profession.  The  only  one  he  had  a 
leaning  to  was  that  of  chemistry.  This  science  was 
at  the  time  beginning  to  receive  so  much  attention  in 
view  of  agricultural  and  manufacturing  purposes,  that 
it  promised  a  sure  source  of  income  to  the  man  who 
was  borne  well  in  front  upon  its  rising  tide.  But 
alas,  to  this  hope,  money  was  yet  required !  A  large 
sum  must  yet  be  spent  on  education  in  that  direction, 
before  his  knowledge  would  be  of  money-value,  fit  for 
offer  in  the  scientific  market!  He  must  go  to  Ger- 
many to  Liebig,  or  to  Edinburgh  to  Gregory !  There 
was  no  money,  and  the  plan  was  not,  at  least  for  the 
present,  to  be  entertained.  There  was  nothing  left 
but  go  on  teaching. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


A   TUTORSHIP. 


It  cannot  but  be  an  unpleasant  change  for  a  youth, 
to  pass  from  a  house  and  lands  where  he  is  son  —  ah, 
how  much  better  than  master!  and  take  a  subordi- 
nate position  in  another;  but  the  discipline  is  invalu- 
able. To  meet  what  but  for  dignity  would  be  humil- 
iation, to  do  one's  work  in  spite  of  misunderstanding, 
and  accept  one's  position  thoroughly,  intrenching  it 
with  recognized  duty,  is  no  easy  matter.  As  to  how 
Cosmo  stood  this  ordeal  of  honesty,  I  will  only  say 
that  he  never  gave  up  trying  to  do  better. 

His  great  delight  and  consolation  were  his  father's 
letters,  which  he  treasured  as  if  they  had  been  a 
lover's,  as  indeed  they  were  in  a  much  deeper  and 
truer  sense  than  most  love-letters.  The  two  wrote 
regularly,  and  shared  their  best  and  deepest  with 
each  other.  The  letters  also  of  Mr.  Simon  did  much 
to  uplift  him,  and  enable  him  to  endure  and  strive. 

Nobody  knows  what  the  relation  of  father  and  son 
may  yet  come  to.  Those  who  accept  the  Christian 
328 


A   TUTORSHIP.                                        329 
. J 

revelation  are  bound  to  recognize  that  there  must  be 
in  it  depths  infinite,  ages  off  being  fathomed  yet. 
For  is  it  not  a  reproduction  in  small  of  the  loftiest 
mystery  in  human  ken  —  that  of  the  infinite  Father 
and  infinite  Son  ?  If  man  be  made  in  the  image  of 
God,  then  is  the  human  fatherhood  and  sonship  the 
image  of  the  eternal  relation  between  God  and 
Jesus. 

One  happy  thing  was  that  he  had  a  good  deal  of 
time  to  himself.  He  set  his  face  against  being  with 
the  children  beyond  school  hours,  telling  their  parents 
it  would  be  impossible  for  him  otherwise  to  do  his 
work  with  that  freshness  which  was  as  desirable  for 
them  as  for  him. 

The  situation  his  friends  of  the  university  had  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  for  him,  .was  in  the  south  of  Scot- 
land, almost  on  the  borders.  His  employers  were 
neither  pleasant  nor  interesting — but  more  from  stu- 
pidity than  anything  worse.  Had  they  had  some 
knowledge  of  Cosmo's  history,  they  would  have  taken 
pains  to  be  agreeable  to  him,  for,  having  themselves 
nothing  else,  they  made  much  of  birth  and  family. 
But  Cosmo  had  no  desire  to  come  nearer  where  it  was 
impossible  to  be  near,  and  was  content  with  what 
they  accorded  him  as  a  poor  student  and  careful 
teacher.  They  lived  in  the  quietest  way ;  for  the  heir 
of  the  house,  by  a  former  marriage,  was  a  bad  subject, 
and  kept  them  drained  of  more  than  the  superfluous 
money  about  the  place. 

Cosmo  remained  with  them  two  years,  and  during 
that  time  did  not  go  home,  for  so  there  was  the  more 
money  to  send ;  but  as  he  entered  his  third  year,  he 


33©  WARLOCK   O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

* ; 

began  to  feel  life  growing  heavy  upon  him,  and  longed 
unspeakably  after  his  father. 

One  day,  the  last  of  the  first  quarter,  Mr.  Baird 
sent  a  message,  desiring  his  presence,  and  with  some 
hesitation  and  difficulty  informed  him  that,  because 
of  certain  circumstances  over  which  unhappily  he  had 
no  control,  he  was  compelled  to  dispense  with  his 
services.  He  regretted  the  necessity  much,  he  said, 
for  the  children  were  doing  well  with  him.  He  would 
always  be  glad  to  hear  from  him,  and  know  that  he 
was  getting  on.  A  little  indignant,  for  his  father's 
sake  more  than  his  own,  Cosmo  remarked  that  it  was 
customary,  he  believed,  to  give  a  tutor  a  quarter's 
notice,  which  brought  the  reply,  that  nothing  would 
please  Mr.  Baird  better  than  that  he  should  remain 
another  quarter  —  if  it  was  any  convenience  to  him ; 
but  he  had  had  great  misfortunes  within  the  last 
month,  and  had  no  choice  but  beg  him  to  excuse 
some  delay  in  the  payment  of  his  quarter's  salary 
now  due.  In  these  circumstances  he  had  thought  it 
the  kindest  thing  to  let  him  look  out  for  another  situ- 
ation. 

Hearing  this,  Cosmo  was  sorry,  and  said  what  he 
could  to  make  the  trouble,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned, 
weigh  lightly.  He  did  not  know  that  what  he  had 
fairly  earned  went  to  save  a  rascal  from  the  punish- 
ment he  deserved — the  best  thing  man  could  give 
him.  Mr.  Baird  judged  it  more  for  the  honour  of  his 
family  to  come  between  the  wicked  and  his  deserts, 
than  to  pay  the  workman  his  wages.  Of  that  money 
Cosmo  never  received  a  farthing.  The  worst  of  it  to 
to  him  was,  that  he  had  almost  come  to  the  bottom 


A    TUTORSHIP.  ^^;^ 


of  his  purse  —  had  not  nearly  enough  to  take  him 
home. 

He  went  to  his  room  in  no  small  perplexity.  He 
could  not,  would  not  trouble  his  father.  There  are 
not  a  few  sons,  I  think,  who  would  be  more  consid- 
erate, were  they  trusted  like  Cosmo  from  the  first, 
and  allowed  to  know  thoroughly  the  circumstances  of 
their  parents.  The  sooner  mutual  confidence  is  initi- 
ated the  better.  A  servant  knocked  at  the  door, 
and,  true  to  the  day,  came  the  expected  letter  from 
his  father  —  this  time  enclosing  one  from  Lady  Joan. 

The  Warlocks  and  she  had  never  had  sight  of  each 
other  since  the  dreary  day  she  left  them,  but  they  had 
never  lost  hearing  of  each  other.  Lady  Joan  re- 
tained a  lively  remembrance  of  her  visit,  and  to  both 
father  and  son  the  occasional  letter  from  her  was  a 
rare  pleasure.  Some  impression  of  the  dignity  and 
end  of  life  had  been  left  with  Joan  from  their  influ- 
ences, old  man  as  was  the  one,  and  child  as  was 
the  other ;  and  to  the  imagination  of  Cosmo  she  was 
still  the  type  of  all  beauty  —  such  as  his  boyish  eyes 
had  seen  her,  and  his  boyish  heart  received  her.  But 
from  her  letters  seemed  to  issue  to  the  inner  ear  of 
the  laird  a  tone  of  oppression  for  which  they  gave 
him  no  means  of  accounting ;  while  she  said  so  little 
concerning  her  outward  circumstances,  hardly  ever 
even  alluding  to  her  brother,  that  he  could  not  but 
fear  things  did  not  go  well  with  her  at  home.  The 
one  he  had  now  sent  was  even  sad,  and  had  so 
touched  his  heart,  that  in  his  own  he  suggested  the 
idea  of  Cosmo's  paying  her  a  visit  in  his  coming  hol- 
idays.    It  might  comfort  her  a  little,  he  said,  to  see 


334  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

one  who  cared  so  much,  though  he  could  do  so  little 
for  her. 

Cosmo  jumped  up,  and  paced  about  the  room. 
What  better  could  he  do  than  go  at  once  !  He  had 
not  known  what  to  do  next,  and  here  was  direction  ! 
He  was  much  more  likely  to  find  a  situation  in 
England  than  in  Scotland  !  And  for  his  travelling 
expenses,  he  knew  well  how  to  make  a  little  go  a 
great  way  !  He  wrote  therefore  to  his  father  telling 
him  what  had  occurred,  and  saying  he  would  go  at 
once.  The  moment  he  had  dispatched  his  letter,  he 
set  about  his  preparations.  Like  a  bird  the  door 
of  whose  cage  had  been  opened,  he  could  hardly 
endure  his  captivity  one  instant  longer.  To  write 
and  wait  a  reply  from  Joan  was  simply  impossible. 
He  must  start  the  very  next  morning.  Alas,  he  had 
no  wings  either  real  or  symbolic,  and  must  foot 
it!  It  would  take  him  days  to  reach  Yorkshire,  on 
the  northern  border  of  which  she  lived,  but  the  idea 
of  such  a  journey,  with  such  a  goal  before  him,  not 
to  mention  absolute  release  from  books  and  boys, 
was  entrancing.  To  set  out  free,  to  walk  on  and  on  for 
days,  not  knowing  what  next  would  appear  at  any 
turn  of  the  road  —  it  was  like  reading  a  story  that 
came  to  life  as  you  read  it !  And  then  in  the  last 
chapter  of  it  to  arrive  at  the  loveliest  lady  in  the 
world,  the  same  whose  form  and  face  mingled 
with  his  every  day-dream  —  it  was  a  chain  of  gold 
with  a  sapphire  at  the  end  of  it  —  a  flowery  path  to 
the  gate  of  heaven  ! 

That  night  he  took  his  leave  of  the  family,  to  start 
early  in  the  morning.     The  father  and  mother  were 


A   TUTORSHIP.  335 


plainly  sorry  ;  the  children  looked  grave,  and  one  of 
them  cried.  He  wrote  to  Mr.  Baird  once  after,  but 
had  no  answer  —  nor  ever  heard  anything  of  them 
but  that  they  had  to  part  with  everything,  and  retire 
into  poverty. 

It  was  a  lovely  spring  morning  when  with  his  stick 
and  his  knapsack  he  set  out,  his  heart  as  light  as 
that  of  the  sky-lark  that  seemed  for  a  long  way  to  ac- 
company him.  It  was  one  after  another  of  them  that 
took  up  the  song  of  his  heart  and  made  it  audible  to 
his  ears.  Better  convoy  in  such  mood  no  man  could 
desire.  He  walked  twenty  miles  that  day  for  a  be- 
ginning, and  slept  in  a  little  village,  whose  cocks 
that  woke  him  in  the  morning  seemed  all  to  have 
throats  of  silver,  and  hearts  of  golden  light.  He  in- 
creased his  distance  walked  every  day,  and  felt  as  if 
he  could  go  on  so  for  years. 

But  before  he  reached  his  destination,  what  people 
call  a  misfortune  befell  him.  I  do  not  myself  believe 
there  is  any  misfortune  ;  what  men  call  such  is  merely 
the  shadow-side  of  a  good. 

He  had  one  day  passed  through  a  lovely  country, 
and  in  the  evening  found  himself  upon  a  dreary 
moorland.  As  night  overtook  him,  it  came  on  to 
rain,  and  grew  very  cold.  He  resolved  therefore  to 
seek  shelter  at  the  first  house  he  came  to ;  and  just 
ere  it  was  quite  dark,  arrived  at  some  not  very  in- 
viting abodes  on  the  brow  of  the  descent  from  the 
moor,  the  first  of  which  was  an  inn.  The  landlady 
received  him,  and  made  him  as  comfortable  as  she 
could,  but  as  he  did  not  find  his  quarters  to  his  taste, 
he  rose   even    earlier  than    he   had   intended,    and 


336  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Started  in  a  pouring  rain.  He  had  paid  his  bill  the 
night  before,  intending  to  break  his  fast  at  the  first 
shop  where  he  could  buy  a  loaf. 

The  clouds  were  sweeping  along  in  great  gray 
masses,  with  yellow  lights  between,  and  every  now 
and  then  they  would  let  the  sun  look  out  for  a  moment, 
and  the  valley  would  send  up  the  loveliest  smile  from 
sweetest  grass  or  growing  corn,  all  wet  with  the  rain 
that  made  it  strong  for  the  sun.  He  saw  a  river,  and 
bridges,  and  houses,  and  in  the  distance  the  ugly 
chimneys  of  a  manufacturing  town.  Still  it  rained 
and  still  the  sun  would  shine  out.  He  had  grown 
Very  hungry  before  at  length  he  reached  a  tiny  ham- 
let, and  in  it  a  cottage  with  a  window  that  displayed 
loaves.  He  went  in,  took  the  largest  he  saw,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  tearing  a  great  piece  out  of 
it,  when  he  thought  it  would  be  but  polite  to  pay  for 
it  first,  and  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket.  It  was  well 
he  did  so,  for  in  his  pocket  was  no  purse  !  Either  it 
had  been  stolen  at  the  inn,  or  he  had  lost  it  on  the 
way.     He  put  down  the  loaf. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said,  "but  I  find  I  have  lost 
my  purse." 

The  woman  looked  him  in  the  face  with  keen  en- 
quiring eyes ;  then  apparently  satisfied  with  her 
scrutiny,  smiled,  and  said, 

"  Ne'er  trouble  yoursel',  sir.  Yo  can  pey  mo  as 
yo  coom  back.     Aw  hope  you  'n  lost  noan  so  mich  ? " 

"  Not  much,  but  all  I  had,"  answered  Cosmo.  "  I 
am  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I'm  not  likely  ever  to 
be  this  way  again,  so  I  can't  accept  your  kindness. 
I   am   sorry  to    have  troubled  you,  but  after  all,  I 


A   TUTORSHIP.  339 


have  the  worst  of  it,"  he  added,  smiling,  "  for  I  am 
very  hungry." 

As  he  spoke,  he  turned  away,  and  had  laid  his 
hand  on  the  latch  of  the  door,  when  the  woman 
spoke  again. 

'•Tak  th'  loaf,"  she  said;  "it'll  be  aw  the  same  in 
less  than  a  hunder  year." 

She  spoke  crossly,  almost  angrily.  Cosmo  seemed 
to  himself  to  understand  her  entirely.  Had  she 
looked  well-to-do,  he  would  have  taken  the  loaf, 
promising  to  send  the  money ;  but  he  could  not 
bring .  himself  to  trouble  the  thoughts  of  a  poor 
woman,  possibly  with  a  large  family,  to  whom  the 
price  of  such  a  loaf  must  be  of  no  small  consequence. 
He  thanked  her  again,  but  shook  his  head.  The 
woman  looked  more  angry  than  before  :  having 
constrained  herself  to  give,  it  was  hard  to  be  re- 
fused. 

"  Yo  micht  tak  what's  offered  yo !  "  she  said. 

Cosmo  stood  thinking  :  was  there  any  way  out  of 
the  difficulty  ?  Almost  mechanically  he  began 
searching  his  pockets  :  he  had  very  few  things  either 
in  his  pockets  or  anywhere  else.  All  his  lingers  en- 
countered was  a  penknife  too  old  and  worn  to  repre- 
sent any  value,  a  stump  of  cedar-pencil,  and  an 
ancient  family-seal  his  father  had  given  him  when  he 
left  home.  This  last  he  took  out,  glanced  at  it,  felt 
that  only  the  duty  of  saving  his  life  could  make  him 
part  with  it,  put  it  back,  turned  once  more,  said 
"  Good  morning,"  and  left  the  shop. 

He  had  not  gone  many  steps  when  he  heard  the 
shop-bell  ring;    the  woman  came  running  after  him. 


340  WARLOCK   O     GLENWARLOCK. 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  What  fountain  had  been 
opened,  I  cannot  tell;  perhaps  only  that  of  sympa- 
thy with  the  hungry  youth. 

"Tak  th'  loaf,"  she  said  again,  but  in  a  very  differ- 
ent voice  this  time,  and  held  it  out  to  him.  "  Dunnot 
be  vexed  with  a  poor  woman.  Sometimes  hoo  dunnot 
knaw  wheer  to  get  the  bread  for  her  own." 

"  That's  why  I  wouldn't  take  it,"  rejoined  Cosmo. 
"  If  I  had  thought  you  were  well  off,  I  would  not  have 
hesitated." 

"Oh!  aw'm  noan  so  pinched  at  present,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  smile.  "Tak  th'  loaf,  an'  welcome,  an' 
pey  mo  when  yo'  can." 

Cosmo  put  down  her  name  and  address  in  his 
pocket-book,  and  as  he  took  the  loaf,  kissed  the  toil- 
worn  hand  that  gave  it  him.  She  uttered  a  little  cry 
of  remonstrance,  threw  her  apron  over  her  head,  and 
went  back  to  the  house,  sobbing. 

The  tide  rose  in  Cosmo's  heart  too,  but  he  left  the 
hamlet  eating  almost  ravenously.  Another  might 
have  asked  himself  where  dinner  was  to  come  from, 
and  spared  a  portion ;  but  that  was  not  Cosmo's  way. 
He  would  have  given  half  his  loaf  to  any  hungry  man 
he  met,  but  he  would  not  save  the  half  of  it  in  view 
of  a  possible  need  that  might  never  come.  Every 
minute  is  a  to-morrow  to  the  minute  that  goes  before 
it,  and  is  bound  to  it  by  the  same  duty-roots  that 
make  every  moment  one  with  eternity;  but  there  is 
no  more  occasion  to  bind  minute  to  minute  with  the 
knot-grass  of  anxiety,  than  to  ruin  both  to-day  and  the 
grand  future  with  the  cares  of  a  poor  imaginary  to- 
morrow.   To-day's  duty  is  the  only  true  provision  for 


A   TUTORSHIP.  341 


to-morrow ;  and  those  who  are  careful  about  the  mor- 
row are  but  the  more  likely  to  bring  its  troubles  upon 
them  by  the  neglect  of  duty  which  care  brings.  Some 
say  that  care  for  the  morrow  is  what  distinguishes  the 
man  from  the  beast ;  certainly  it  is  one  of  the  many 
things  that  distinguish  the  slave  of  Nature  from  the 
.child  of  God. 

Cosmo  ate  his  loaf  with  as  hearty  a  relish  as  ever 
Grizzle's  porridge,  and  that  is  saying  as  much  for  his 
appetite,  if  not  necessarily  for  the  bread,  as  words 
can.  He  had  swallowed  it  almost  before  he  knew, 
and  felt  at  first  as  if  he  could  eat  another,  but  after  a 
drink  of  water  from  a  well  by  the  road-side,  found 
that  he  had  had  enough,  and  strode  on  his  way,  as 
strong  and  able  as  if  he  had  had  coffee  and  eggs  and 
a  cutlet,  and  a  dozen  things  besides. 

He  was  passing  the  outskirts  of  the  large  manufac- 
turing town  he  had  seen  in  the  distance,  leaving  it 
on  one  hand,  when  he  became  again  aware  of  the  ap- 
proach of  hunger.  One  of  the  distinguishing  features 
of  Cosmo's  character,  was  a  sort  of  childlike  boldness 
towards  his  fellow-men ;  and  coming  presently  to 
a  villa  with  a  smooth-shaven  lawn,  and  seeing  a  man 
leaning  over  the  gate  that  opened  from  the  road,  he 
went  up  to  him  and  said, 

"  Do  you  happen  to  have  anything  you  want  done 
about  the  place,  sir  ?  I  want  my  dinner  and  have  no 
money." 

The  man,  one  with  whom  the  world  seemed  to 
have  gone  to  his  wish,  looked  him  all  over. 

"  A  fellow  like  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  beg," 
he  said. 


342  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  was  not  doing,"  returned 
Cosmo,  "  —  except  as  everybody  more  or  less  must 
be  a  beggar.  It  is  one  thing  to  beg  for  work,  and 
another  to  beg  for  food.  I  didn't  ask  you  to  make  a 
job  for  me ;  I  asked  if  there  was  any  work  about  the 
place  you  wanted  done.     Good  morning,  sir." 

He  turned,  and  the  second  time  that  day  was 
stopped  as  he  went. 

"  I  say  !  —  if  you  can  be  as  sharp  with  your  work 
as  you  are  with  your  tongue,  I  don't  care  if  I  give 
you  a  job.  Look  here  :  my  coachman  left  me  in  a 
huff  this  morning,  and  it  was  time  too,  as  I  find  now 
he  is  gone.  The  stable  is  in  a  shocking  mess  :  if 
you  clean  it  out,  and  set  things  to  rights  —  but 
I  don't  believe  you  can  —  I  will  give  you  your 
dinner." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  returned  Cosmo.  "  I  give  you 
warning  I'm  very  hungry  ;  only  on  the  other  hand,  I 
don't  care  what  I  have  to  eat." 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  man  :  "  your  hands  look  a 
precious  sight  more  like  loafing  than  work  !  I  don't 
believe  your  work  will  be  worth  your  dinner." 

"  Then  don't  give  me  any,"  rejoined  Cosmo,  laugh- 
ing. "  If  the  proof  of  the  pudding  be  in  the  eating, 
the  proof  of  the  stable  must  be  in  the  cleaning.  Let 
me  see  the  place." 

Much  pondering  what  a  fellow  scouring  the  country 
with  a  decent  coat  and  no  money  could  be,  the 
dweller  in  the  villa  led  the  way  to  his  stable. 

In  a  mess  that  stable  certainly  was. 

"The  new  man  is  coming  this  evening,"  said  the 
man,  "  and  I  would  rather  he  didn't  see  things  in 


A   TUTORSHIP.  343 


such  a  state.  He  might  think  anything  good  enough 
after  this !  The  rascal  took  to  drink  —  and  that, 
young  man,"  he  added  in  a  monitory  tone,  "  is  the 
end  of  air  things." 

"  I'll  soon  set  the  place  to  rights,"  said  Cosmo. 
"Let's  see  —  where  shall  I  find  a  graip?" 

"  A  grape .?  what  the  deuce  do  you  want  with 
grapes  in  a  stable  ?  " 

"I  forgot  where  I  was,  sir,"  answered  Cosmo, 
laughing.  "  I  am  a  Scotchman,  and  so  I  call  things 
by  old-fashioned  names.  That  is  what  we  call  a 
three  or  four-pronged  fork  in  my  country.  The  word 
comes  from  the  same  root  as  the  German  grei/en,  and 
our  own  grzp,  and  gripe,  and  grope,  and  gral?  —  and 
grulf  too ! "  he  added,  "  which  in  the  present  case  is 
significant." 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  scholar  —  are  you  ?  Then  you  are 
either  a  Scotch  gardener  on  the  tramp  after  a  situa- 
tion, or  a  young  gentleman  who  has  made  a  bad  use 
of  his  privileges !  " 

"  Do  you  found  that  conclusion  on  my  having  no 
money,  or  on  my  readiness  to  do  the  first  honest 
piece  of  work  that  comes  to  my  hand } "  asked 
Cosmo,  who  having  lighted  on  a  tool  to  serve  his 
purpose,  was  already  at  work.  "  —  But  never  mind  ! 
here  goes  for  a  clean  stable  and  a  good  dinner." 

"  How  do  you  know  your  dinner  will  be  good  ? " 

"  Because  I  am  so  ready  for  it." 

"  If  you're  so  sharp  set,  I  don't  mind  letting  you 
have  a  snack  before  you  go  further,"  said  his 
employer. 

"  No,  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Cosmo ;  "  I  am  too 


344  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

self-indulgent  to  enjoy  my  food  before  I  have  finished 
my  work." 

"Not  a  bad  way  of  being  self-indulgent,  that!" 
said  the  man.  "  —  But  what  puzzles  me  is,  that  a 
young  fellow  with  such  good  principles  should  be 
going  about  the  country  like  —  " 

"Like  a  tinker — would  you  say,  sir  —  or  like 
Abraham  of  old  when  he  had  no  abiding  city  1 " 

"  You  seem  to  know  your  Bible  too  !  —  Come  now, 
there  must  be  some  reason  for  your  being  adrift  like 
this ! " 

"  Of  course  there  is,  sir ;  and  if  I  were  sure  you 
would  believe  me,  I  would  tell  you  enough  to  make 
you  understand  it." 

"  A  cautious  Scotchman  !  " 

"  Yes.  Whatever  I  told  you,  you  would  doubt ; 
therefore  I  tell  you  nothing." 

"  You  have  been  doing  something  wrong !  "  said 
the  man. 

"  You  are  rude,"  returned  Cosmo  quietly,  without 
stopping  his  work. —  "  But,"  he  resumed,  "  were  j/ou 
never  in  any  difficulty  ?  Have  you  always  had  your 
pockets  full  when  you  were  doing  right  ?  It  is  not 
just  to  suspect  a  man  because  he  is  poor.  The  best 
men  have  rarely  been  rich." 

Receiving  no  reply,  Cosmo  raised  his  head.  The 
man  was  gone. 

"  Somebody  has  been  telling  him  about  me  !  "  he 
said  to  himself,  and  went.  For  the  stable  Cosmo 
was  then  cleaning  out,  the  ho'rses  that  lived  in  it,  and 
the  house  to  which  it  belonged,  were  the  proceeds  of 
a  late  judicious  failure. 


A   TUTORSHIP. 


345 


He  finished  his  job,  set  everything  right  as  far  as 
he  could,  and  going  to  the  kitchen  door,  requested 
the  master  might  be  invited  to  inspect  his  work.  But 
the  master  only  sent  orders  to  the  cook  to  give  the 
young  man  his  dinner,  and  let  him  go  about  his  busi- 
ness. 

Cosmo  ate  none  the  less  heartily,  for  it  was  his 
own;  and  cook  and  maid  were  more  polite  than  their 
master.  He  thanked  them  and  went  his  way,  and  in 
the  strength  of  that  food  walked  many  miles  into  the 
night — for  now  he  set  no  goal  before  him  but  the 
last. 

It  was  a  clear,  moonless,  starry  night,  cold  after 
the  rain,  but  the  easier  to  walk  in.  The  wind  now 
and  then  breathed  a  single  breath  and  ceased ;  but 
that  breath  was  piercing.  He  buttoned  his  coat, 
and  trudged  on.  The  hours  went  and  went.  He 
could  not  be  far  from  Cairncarque,  and  hoped  by 
break  of  day  to  be,  if  not  within  sight  of  it,  at 
least  within  accurate  hearing  of  it. 

Midnight  was  not  long  past  when  a  pale  old  moon 
came  up,  and  looked  drearily  at  him.  For  some 
time  he  had  been  as  if  walking  in  a  dream  ;  and  now 
the  moon  mingled  with  the  dream  right  strangely. 
Scarce  was  she  above  the  hill  when  an  odd-shaped 
cloud  came  upon  her ;  and  Cosmo's  sleep-bewildered 
eyes  saw  in  the  cloud  the  body  and  legs  of  James 
Gracie's  cow,  straddling  across  the  poor,  withered 
heel-rind  of  the  moon.  Then  another  cloud,  high 
among  the  stars,  began  to  drop  large  drops  of  rain 
upon  his  head.  "That's  the  reid  gowd  rainin','' 
he  said  to  himself.     He  was  gradually  sinking  under 


346  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

the  power  of  invading  sleep.  Every  now  and  then 
he  would  come  to  himself  for  the  briefest  instant, 
and  say  he  mtist  seek  some  shelter.  The  next 
moment  he  was  asleep  again.  He  had  often  won- 
dered that  horses  could  get  over  the  road  and  sleep : 
here  he  was  doing  it  himself  and  not  wondering 
at  all !  The  wind  rose,  and  blew  sharp  stings  of  rain 
in  his  face,  which  woke  him  up  a  little.  He  looked 
about  him.  Had  he  been  going  through  a  town,  who 
would  have  taken  him  in  at  that  time  of  the  mid- 
night-morning ?  and  here  he  was  in  a  long  lane  without 
sign  of  turning !  To  him  it  had  neither  beginning  nor 
end,  like  a  lane  in  a  dream.  It  might  be  a  lane  in  a 
dream  !  He  could  remember  feeling  overwhelmed 
with  sleep  in  a  dream !  Still  he  did  not  think  he  was 
dreaming :  for  one  thing,  he  had  never  been  so  un- 
comfortable in  a  dream ! 

The  lane  at  last  opened  on  a  triangular  piece  of 
sward,  looking  like  a  village  green.  In  the  middle 
of  it  stood  a  great  old  tree,  with  a  bench  round  it. 
He  dropped  on  the  bench  and  was  asleep  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

The  wind  blew,  and  the  rain  fell.  Cold  and  discom- 
fort ruled  his  dim  consciousness,  but  he  slept  like  one 
of  the  dead.  When  the  sun  rose,  it  found  him  at  full 
length  on  the  bare-worn  earth  at  the  foot  of  the  tree. 
But,  shining  full  upon  him,  it  did  not  for  a  long  time 
break  his  sleep.  When  at  last  it  yielded  and  he  came 
to  himself,  it  was  to  the  consciousness  of  a  body  that 
was  a  burden,  of  a  tabernacle  that  ached  as  if  all  its 
cords  were  strained,  yet  all  its  stakes  loosened.  With 
nightmare  difficulty  he  compelled  his  limbs  to  raise 


HE    DROPPED   ON    THE    BENCH.' 


A    TUTORSHIP.  349 


him,  and  then  was  so  ill  able  to  govern  them,  that 
he  staggered  like  a  drunken  man,  and  again  and 
again  all  but  dropped.  Such  a  night's-rest  after 
such  a  day's-weariness  had  all  but  mastered  him. 
Seeing  a  pond  in  the  green,  he  made  for  it,  and 
having  washed  his  face,  felt  a  little  revived.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  green,  he  saw  a  little  shop,  in  the 
unshuttered  window  of  which  was  bread.  Mechani- 
cally he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket.  To  his  surprise, 
he  found  there  sixpence  :  the  maid  that  waited  on 
him  at  dinner  had  dropped  it  in.  Rejoiced  by  the 
gift,  he  tried  to  run,  to  get  some  warmth  into  his 
limbs,  but  had  no  great  success.  The  moment  the 
shop  was  opened,  he  spent  his  sixpence,  and  learned 
that  he  was  but  about  three  miles  off  the  end  of  his 
journey.  He  set  out  again  therefore  with  good 
courage ;  but  alas !  the  moment  he  tried  to  eat, 
mouth  and  throat  and  all  refused  their  office.  He 
had  no  recollection  of  any  illness,  but  this  was  so 
unlike  his  usual  self,  that  he  could  not  help  some 
apprehension.  As  he  walked  he  got  a  little  better, 
however,  and  trudged  manfully  on.  By  and  by  he 
was  able  to  eat  a  bit  of  bread,  and  felt  better  still. 
But  as  he  recovered,  he  became  aware  that  with  fa- 
tigue and  dirt  his  appearance  must  be  disreputable 
in  the  extreme.  How  was  he  to  approach  Lady 
Joan  in  such  a  plight  ?  If  she  recognized  him  at 
once,  he  would  but  be  the  more  ashamed  !  What 
could  she  take  him  for  but  a  ne'er-do-weel,  whose 
character  had  given  way  the  moment  he  left  the 
guardianship  of  home,  and  who  now  came  to  sponge 
upon  her  !      And  if  he    should   be   ill !      He  would 


35 O  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

rather  lie  down  and  die  on  the  roadside  than  present 
himself  dirty  and  ill  at  Cairncarque  !  —  rather  go  to 
the  workhouse,  than  encounter  even  the  momentary 
danger  of  such  a  misunderstanding  !  These  reflec- 
tions were  hardly  worthy  of  the  faith  he  had  hitherto 
shown,  but  he  was  not  yet  perfect,  and  unproved  ill- 
ness had  clouded  his  judgment. 

Coming  to  a  watering-place  for  horses  on  the  road- 
side, he  sat  down  by  it,  and  opening  his  bag,  was 
about  to  make  what  little  of  a  toilet  was  possible  to 
him  —  was  thinking  whether  he  might  venture,  as  it 
seemed  such  a  lonely  road,  to  change  his  shirt,  when 
round  a  near  corner  came  a  lady,  walking  slowly,  and 
reading  as  she  came.  It  was  she!  And  there  he 
stood  without  coat  or  waistcoat !  To  speak  to  her 
thus  would  be  to  alarm  her !  He  turned  his  back, 
and  began  to  wash  in  the  pool,  nor  once  dared  look 
round.  He  heard  her  slowly  pass,  fancied  he  heard 
her  stop  one  step,  felt  her  presence  from  head  to 
foot,  and  washed  the  harder.  When  he  thought  she 
was  far  enough  off,  he  put  on  the  garments  he  had  re- 
moved, and  hastened  away,  drying  himself  as  he  went. 

At  the  turn  of  the  road,  all  at  once  rose  the  towers 
of  Cairncarque.  There  was  a  castle  indeed  !  — 
something  to  call  a  castle  !  —  with  its  huge  square 
tower  at  every  corner,  and  its  still  huger  two  towers 
in  the  middle  of  its  front,  its  moat,  and  the  causeway 
where  once  had  been  its  drawbridge  !  —  Yes  !  there 
were  the  spikes  of  the  portcullis,  sticking  down  from 
the  top  of  the  gateway,  like  the  long  upper  teeth  of  a 
giant  or  ogre  !  That  was  a  real  castle  —  such  as  he 
had  read  of  in  books,  such  as  he  liad  seen  in  pictures! 


A   TUTORSHIP.  351 


Castle  Warlock  would  go  bodily  into  half  a  quarter 
of  it  —  would  be  swallowed  up  like  a  mouthful,  and 
never  seen  again  !  Castle  Warlock  was  twice  as  old 
—  that  was  something  !  but  why  had  not  Lady  Joan 
told  him  hundreds  of  stories  about  Cairncarque,  in- 
stead of  letting  him  gabble  on  about  their  little 
place  ?  But  she  could  not  love  her  castle  as  he  did 
his,  for  she  had  no  such  father  in  it !  That  must  be 
what  made  the  difference !  That  was  why  she  did 
not  care  to  talk  about  it !  Was  he  actually  going  to 
see  her  again  ?  and  would  she  be  to  him  the  same  as 
before  ?  For  him,  the  years  between  had  vanished  ; 
the  entrancing  shadows  of  years  far  away  folded  him 
round,  and  he  was  no  more  a  man,  but  the  boy  who 
had  climbed  the  wintry  hills  with  her,  and  run  down 
them  again  over  the  snow  hand  in  hand  with  her. 
But  as  he  drew  nigh  the  great  pile,  which  grew  as  he 
approached  it,  his  heart  sank  within  him.  His  head 
began  to  ache :  a  strange  diffidence  seized  him ;  he 
could  not  go  up  to  the  door.  He  would  not  mind, 
he  said  to  himself,  if  Joan  would  be  there  the  mo- 
ment the  door  opened.  But  would  any  servant  in 
England  admit  a  fellow  like  him  to  the  presence  of  a 
grand  lady  ?  How  could  he  walk  up  to  the  great 
door  in  the  guise  of  one  who  had  all  night  had  his 
lodging  on  the  cold  ground  !  He  would  reconnoitre 
a  little,  find  some  quiet  way  of  approaching  the 
house,  perhaps  discover  some  shelter  where  he  might 
rectify  what  was  worst  in  his  personal  appearance ! 
He  turned  away  therefore  from  the  front  of  the  cas- 
tle, and  following  the  road  that  skirted  the  dilapi- 
dated remnants  of  fortification,  passed  several  farm- 


352  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

like  sheds,  and  arrived  at  a  door  in  a  brick  wall, 
apparently  that  of  a  garden  —  ancient,  and  green  and 
gray  with  lichens.  Looking  through  it  with  the  eyes 
of  his  imagination,  he  saw  on  the  other  side  the 
loveliest  picture  of  warmth,  order,  care,  and  ancient 
peace, —  regions  stately  with  yews  and  cedars,  fruit- 
trees  and  fountains,  clean-swept  walks  and  shady 
alleys.  The  red  wall,  mottled  and  clouded  with  its 
lichens,  and  ruffed  with  many  a  thready  weed,  looked 
like  the  reverse  of  some  bit  of  gorgeous  brocade,  on 
the  sunny  side  of  which  must  hang  blossoming 
peaches  and  pears,  nectarines  and  apricots  and  apples, 
on  net-like  trees,  that  spread  out  great  obedient  arms 
and  multitudinous  twigs  against  it,  holding  on  by  it, 
and  drinking  in  the  hot  sunshine  it  gathered  behind 
them.  Ah,  what  it  would  be  to  have  such  a  garden 
at  Glenwarlock ! 

He  turned  to  the  door,  with  difficulty  opened  it, 
and  the  vision  vanished.  Not  a  few  visions  vanish 
when  one  takes  them  for  fact,  and  not  for  the  vision 
of  fact  that  has  to  be  wrought  out  with  the  energy  of 
a  God-born  life. 


HE  TURNED   TO  THE   DOOR. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE  GARDENER. 


There  was  a  garden  indeed,  but  a  garden  whose 
ragged,  ugly,  degraded  desolation  looked  as  if  the 
devil  had  taken  to  gardening  in  it.  Rather  than  a 
grief,  it  was  a  pain  and  disgust  to  see.  Fruit-trees 
there  were  on  the  wall,  but  run  wild  with  endless 
shoots,  which  stuck  like  a  hog's  mane  over  the  top  of 
it,  and  out  in  every  direction  from  the  face  of  it 
with  a  look  of  impertinent  daring.  All  the  fasten- 
ings were  broken  away,  and  only  the  old  branches, 
from  habit,  kept  their  places  against  it.  Everything 
all  about  seemed  striving  back  to  a  dear  disorder  and 
salvage  liberty.  The  walks  were  covered  with  weeds, 
and  almost  impassable  with  unpruned  branches, 
while  here  lay  a  heap  of  rubbish,  there  a  smashed 
flower-pot,  here  a  crushed  water-pot,  there  a  broken 
dinner-plate.  Following  a  path  that  led  away  from 
the  wall,  he  came  upon  a  fountain  without  any  water, 
in  a  cracked  basin  dry  as  a  lizard-haunted  wall,  a 
sundial  without  a  gnomon,  leaning  wearily  away  from 

355      • 


356  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

the  sun,  a  marble  statue  without  a  nose,  and  streaked 
about  with  green :  like  an  army  of  desolation  in  single 
file,  they  revealed  to  Cosmo  the  age-long  neglect  of 
the  place.  Next  appeared  a  wing  built  out  from  the 
back  of  the  inner  court  of  the  castle  —  in  a  dilapi- 
dated, almost  dangerous  condition.  Then  he  came 
to  a  great  hedge  of  yew,  very  lofty,  but  very  thin,  like 
a  fence  of  old  wire  that  had  caught  cart-loads  of 
withered  rubbish  in  its  meshes.  Here  he  heard  the 
sound  of  a  spade,  and  by  the  accompanying  sounds 
judged  the  implement  was  handled  by  an  old  man. 
He  peeped  through  the  hedge,  and  caught  sight  of 
him.  Old  he  was  —  bent  with  years,  but  tough,  wiry, 
and  sound,  and  it  seemed  to  Cosmo  that  the  sighs 
and  groans,  or  rather  grunts,  which  he  uttered,  were 
more  of  impatience  and  discontent  than  oppression  or 
weakness.  As  he  stood  regarding  him  for  a  moment^ 
anxious  to  discover  with  what  sort  of  man  he  had  to 
deal,  he  began  to  mutter.  Presently  he  ceased  dig- 
ging, drew  himself  up  as  straight  as  he  could,  and, 
leaning  on  his  spade,  went  on,  as  if  addressing  his 
congregation  of  cabbages  over  the  book-board  of  a 
pulpit.  And  now  his  muttering  took,  to  the  ears  of 
Cosmo,  an  indistinct  shape  like  this  : 

"  Wha  cares  for  an  auld  man  like  me  ?  I  kenna 
what  for  there  sud  be  auld  men  made  !  The  banes  o' 
me  micht  melt  i'  the  inside  o'  me,  an'  never  a  sowl 
alive  du  mair  for  me  nor  berry  me  to  get  rid  o'  the 
stink !  No  'at  I'm  that  dooms  auld  i'  mysel'  them  'at 
wad  hae  my  place  wad  hae  me  !  " 

Here  was  a  chance  for  him,  Cosmo  thought ;  for 
at   least  here  was   a  fellow-countryman.     He   went 


THE   GARDENER.  357 


along  the  hedge  therefore  until  he  found  a  place 
where  he  could  get  through,  and  approached  the 
man,  who  had  by  this  time  resumed  his  work,  though 
after  a  listless  fashion,  turning  over  spadeful  after 
spadeful,  as  if  neither  he  nor  the  cabbages  cared 
much,  and  all  would  be  in  good  time  if  done  by  the 
end  of  the  world.  As  he  came  nearer,  Cosmo  read 
peevishness  and  ill-temper  in  every  line  of  his  coun- 
tryman's countenance,  yet  he  approached  him  with 
confidence,  for  Scotchmen  out  of  their  own  coun- 
try are  of  good  report  for  hospitality  to  each  other. 

"  Hoo's  a'  wi'  ye  ? "  he  cried,  sending  his  mother- 
tongue  as  a  pursuivant  in  advance. 

"  Wha's  speirin  ?  an'  what  richt  hae  ye  to  speir  ?  '* 
returned  the  old  man  in  an  angry  voice,  and  lifting 
himself  quickly,  though  with  an  aching  sigh,  looked 
at  him  with  hard  blue  eyes. 

"  A  countryman  o'  yer  ain,"  answered  Cosmo. 

"  Mony  ane's  that  'at  's  naething  the  better  nor  the 
walcomer.  Gie  an  accoont  o'  yersel',  or  the  doags  '11 
be  lowsed  upo'  ye  here  in  a  jiffey.  Haith,  this  is  no 
the  place  for  lan'loupers  !  " 

"  Hae  ye  been  lang  aboot  the  place  ? "  asked 
Cosmo. 

"  Langer  nor  ye'.re  like  to  be,  I'm  thinkin',  gien  ye 
keep  na  the  ceeviler  tongue  i'  yer  heid,  my  man  — 
Whaur  come  ye  frae .? " 

The  old  man  had  dropt  his  spade  ;  Cosmo  took  it 
up,  and  began  to  dig. 

"  Lay  doon  that  spaud,"  cried  its  owner,  and  would 
have  taken  it  from  him,  but  Cosmo  delayed  rendi- 
tion. 


358  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Hoot,  man  !  "  he  said,  "  I  wad  but  lat  ye  see  I'm 
nae  lan'louper,  an'  can  weel  han'le  a  spaud.  Stan' 
ye  by  a  bit,  an'  rist  yer  banes,  till  I  caw  throuw  a 
trifle  o'  yer  wark." 

"  An'  what  du  ye  expec'  to  come  o'  that  ?     Ye're 
efter  something,  as  sure's  the  deevil  at  the  back  yelt 
though  ye're  nae  freely  sae  sure  to  win  at  it." 

"  What  I  expec,'  it  wad  be  ill  to  say ;  but  what  } 
dinna  expec'  is  to  be  traitit  like  a  vaggabon.  Come^ 
I'll  gie  ye  a  guid  hoor's  wark  for  a  place  to  wash  my- 
sel',  an'  put  on  a  clean  sark." 

''  Hae  ye  the  sark  ?  " 

"  I/iae  't  here  i'  my  bag." 

"  An'  what  du  ye  want  to  put  on  a  clean  sark  for  ? 
What'll  ye  du  whan  ye  hae  't  on  ?  " 

"  Gie  ye  anither  hoor's  wark  for  the  heel  o'  a  loaf 
an'  a  drink  o'  watter." 

"  Ye'll  be  wantin'  to  be  taen  on,  I  s'  wad  (wager) 
ye  a  worm  !  " 

"Gien  ye  cud  gie  me  a  day's  wark,  or  maybe 
twa,  —  "  began  Cosmo,  thinking  how  much  rather  he 
would  fall  in  with  Lady  Joan  about  the  garden  than 
go  up  to  the  house. 

"  I  weel  thoucht  there  sud  be  mair  intil't  nor  ap^ 
peart !  Ye  wad  fain  hae  the  auld  man's  shune,  an' 
mak  sur  o'  them  afore  he  kickit  them  frae  him  !  Ay ! 
It's  jist  like  the  likes  o'  ye  !  Mine's  a  place  the  like 
o'  you's  keen  set  efter !  Ye  think  it's  a'  ait  an'  play  I 
Gang  awa'  wi'  ye,  an'  latna  me  see  the  face  o'  ye 
again,  or  I  s'  ca'  to  them  'at  '11  tak  accoont  o'  ye." 

"  Hoot,  man !  "  returned  Cosmo,  and  went  on  turn- 
ing the  ground  over,  "  ye're  unco  hard  upon  a  neebor !  " 


THE    GARDENER.  359 


"  Neebor !  ye're  no  neebor  o'  mine  !  Gang  awa' 
wi'  ye,  I  tell  ye !  " 

"Did  naebody  never  gie'  you  a  helpin'  han',  'at 
ye're  sae  dooms  hard  upo'  ane  'at  needs  ane  ? " 

"  Gien  onybody  ever  did,  it  wasna  you." 

"  But  dinna  ye  think  ye're  a  kin'  o'  b'un'  to  du  the 
like  again  ? " 

"  Ay,  to  him  'at  did  it — but  I  tell  ye  ye're  no  the 
man  ;  sae  gang  aboot  yer  business." 

"  Someday  ye  may  want  somebody  ance  mair  to  du 
ye  a  guid  turn  !  " 

"  I  hae  dune  a  heap  to  gie  me  a  claim  on  consider- 
ation. I  hae  grown  auld  upo'  the  place.  What  hae 
ye  dune,  my  man .? " 

"  I  wadna  hae  muckle  chance  o'  duin'  onything, 
gien  a'  body  was  like  you.  But  did  ye  never  heai 
tell  o'  ane  'at  said  :  '  Ye  wad  du  naething  for  nane  o' 
mine,  sae  ye  refeesed  mysel' '  ?  " 

"  Deed,  an'  I  wuU  refeese  yersel',"  returned  the 
old  man.  "Sic  a  chield  for  jaw  an'  cheek  —  saw  I 
never  nane  —  as  the  auld  sang  says  !  Whaur  on  this 
earth  cam  ye  frae  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  gave  Cosmo  a  round  punch  on 
the  shoulder  next  him  that  made  him  look  from  his 
work,  and  then  began  eying  him  up  and  down  in  the 
most  supercilious  manner.  He  was  a  small,  with- 
ered, bowed  man,  with  a  thin  wizened  face,  crowned 
by  a  much  worn  fur  cap.  His  mouth  had  been  so 
long  drawn  down  at  each  corner  as  by  weights  of 
discontent,  that  it  formed  nearly  a  half-circle.  His 
eyebrows  were  lifted  as  far  as  they  would  go  above 
his  red-lidded  blue  eyes,  and  there  was  a  succession 


360  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

of  ripply  wrinkles  over  each  of  them,  which  met  in 
the  middle  of  his  forehead,  so  that  he  was  all  over 
arches.  Under  his  cap  stuck  out  enormous  ears, 
much  too  large  for  his  face.  Huge  veiny  hands 
hung  trembling  by  his  sides,  but  they  trembled  more 
from  anger  than  from  age. 

"  I  tellt  ye  a'ready,"  answered  Cosmo ;  "  I  come 
frae  the  auld  country." 

"Deil  tak  the  auld  country !  What  care  I  for  the 
auld  country !  It's  a  braid  place,  an'  langer  nor  it's 
braid,  an'  there's  mony  ane  intil't  an'  oot  on't  'at's  no 
warth  the  parritch  his  mither  pat  intil  'im.  Eh,  the 
fowth  o'  fushionless  beggars  I  hae  seen  come  to  me 
like  yersel' !  —  Ow  ay !  it  was  aye  wark  they  wad 
hae  !  —  an'  cudna  du  mair  nor  a  flee  amo'  triacle  !  — 
What  coonty  are  ye  frae,  wi'  the  lang  legs  an'  the 
lang  back-bane  o'  ye  ?  " 

Cosmo  told  him.  The  hands  of  the  old  man  rose 
from  his  sides,  and  made  right  angles  of  his  elbows. 

"Weel,"  he  said  slowly,  "that's  no  an  ill  coonty  to 
come  frae.  I  may  say  that^  for  I  belang  til't  my- 
sel'.  But  what  pairt  o'  't  ran  ye  frae  whan  ye  cam 
awa'  ? " 

"  I  ran  frae  nae  pairt,  but  I  cam  frae  hame  i'  the 
north  pairt  o'  that  same,"  answered  Cosmo,  and  bent 
again  to  his  work. 

The  man  came  a  step  nearer,  and  Cosmo,  without 
looking  up,  was  aware  he  was  regarding  him  intently. 

"  Ay !  ay  ! "  he  said  at  last,  in  a  tone  of  reflection 
mingled  with  dawning  interest,  "  I  ance  kent  a  terri- 
ble rascal  cam  frae  owerby  that  gait :  what  ca'  they 
the  perris  ye're  frae  ?  " 


THE    GARDENER.  361 


Cosmo  told  him. 

"  Lord  bless  me ! "  cried  the  old  man,  and  came 
close  up  to  him.  —  "  But  na  ! "  he  resumed,  and 
stepped  a  pace  back,  "  somebody's  been  tellin  ye  !  " 

Cosmo  gave  him  no  answer.  He  stood  a  moment 
expecting  one,  then  broke  out  in  a  rage. 

"  What  for  mak  ye  nae  answer  whan  a  body  speirs 
ye  a  queston  ?  That  wasna  mainners  whan  I  was  a 
bairn.  Lord !  ye  micht  as  weel  be  ceevil !  Isna  it 
easy  eneuch  to  lee  ?  " 

"  I  would  answer  no  man  who  was  not  prepared  to 
believe  me,"  said  Cosmo  quietly. 

The  dignity  of  his  English  had  far  more  effect  on 
the  man  than  the  friendliness  of  their  mother-tongue. 

"Maybe  ye  wadna  objec'  to  mak  mention  by  name 
o'  the  toon  nearest  to  ye  whan  ye  was  at  hame  ? " 
said  the  old  man,  and  from  his  altered  manner  and 
tone  Cosmo  felt  he  might  reply. 

"  It  was  ca'd  Muir  o'  Warlock,"  he  answered.     - 

"  Lord,  man  !  come  into  the  hoose.  Ye  maun  be 
sair  in  need  o'  something  to  put  intil  ye  !  A'  the  gait 
frae  Muir  o'  Warlock !  A  toonsman  o'  my  ain !  Scot- 
Ian'  's  a  muckle  place  —  but  Muir  o'  Warlock !  Guid 
guide  's  !     Come  in,  man  ;  come  in  !  " 

So  saying  he  took  the  spade  from  Cosmo's  hands, 
threw  it  down  with  a  contemptuous  cast,  and  led  the 
way  towards  the  house. 

The  old  man  had  a  heart  after  all !  Strange  the 
power  of  that  comparatively  poor  thing,  local  asso- 
ciation, to  bring  to  light  the  eternal  love  at  the  root 
of  the  being !  Wonderful  sign  also  of  the  presence  of 
God  wherever  a  child  may  open  eyes  !     This  man's 


362  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

heart  was  not  yet  big  enough  to  love  a  Scotsman,  but 
it  was  big  enough  to  love  a  Muir-o'-Warlock-man ; 
and  was  not  that  a  precious  beginning  ?  —  a  begin- 
ning as  good  as  any  ?  It  matters  nothing  where  or 
how  one  begins,  if  only  one  does  begin  !  There  are 
many,  doubtless,  who  have  not  yet  got  farther  in  love 
than  their  own  family ;  but  there  are  others  who  have 
learned  that  for  the  true  heart  there  is  neither 
Frenchman  nor  Englishman,  neither  Jew  nor  Greek, 
neither  white  nor  black  —  only  the  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  God,  only  the  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  one 
elder  brother.  There  may  be  some  who  have  learned 
to  love  all  the  people  of  their  own  planet,  but 
have  not  yet  learned  to  look  with  patience  upon 
those  of  Saturn  or  Mercury ;  while  others  there  must 
be,  who,  wherever  there  is  a  creature  of  God's  mak- 
ing, love  each  in  its  capacity  for  love  —  from  the 
arch-angel  before  God's  throne,  to  the  creeping  thing 
he  may  be  compelled  to  destroy  —  from  the  man  of 
this  earth  to  the  man  of  some  system  of  worlds  which 
no  human  telescope  has  yet  brought  within  the  ken 
of  heaven-poring  sage.  And  to  that  it  must  come 
with  every  one  of  us,  for  not  until  then  are  we  true 
men,  true  women  —  the  children,  that  is,  of  him  in 
whose  image  we  are  made. 

Cosmo  followed  very  willingly,  longing  for  water 
and  a  clothes-brush  rather  than  for  food.  The  cold 
and  damp,  fatigue  and  exposure  of  the  night  were 
telling  upon  him  more  than  he  knew,  and  all  the 
time  he  was  at  work,  he  had  been  cramped  by  hitherto 
unknown  pains  in  his  limbs. 

The  gardener  brought  him  to  the  half-ruinous  wing 


THE    GARDENER.  363 


already  mentioned,  to  a  small  kitchen,  opening  under 
a  great  sloping  buttress,  and  presented  him  to  his 
wife,  an  English  woman,  some  ten  years  younger  than 
himself.  She  received  him  with  a  dignified  retraction 
of  the  feelers,  but  the  moment  she  understood  his 
needs,  ministered  to  them,  and  had  some  breakfast 
ready  for  him  by  the  time  he  had  made  his  toilet. 
He  sat  down  by  her  little  fire,  and  drank  some  tea, 
but  felt  shivery,  and  could  not  eat.  In  dread  lest, 
if  he  yielded  a  moment  to  the  invading  sickness,  it 
should  at  once  overpower  him,  he  made  haste  to 
get  out  again  into  the  sun,  and  rejoined  the  old 
man,  who  had  gone  back  to  his  cabbage-ground. 
There  he  pulled  off  his  coat,  and  once  more  seized 
the  spade,  for  work  seemed  the  only  way  of  meet- 
ing his  enemy  hand  to  hand.  But  the  moment  he 
began,  he  was  too  hot,  and  the  moment  he  took 
breath  he  was  ready  to  shiver.  As  long  as  he 
could  stand,  however,  he  would  not  give  in. 

*'  How  many  years  have  you  been  gardener  here  ?  " 
he  asked,  forcing  himself  to  talk. 

"  Five  an'  forty  year,  an'  I'm  nearhan'  tired 
o'  't." 

"  The  present  lord  is  a  young  man,  is  he  not  ? " 

"Ay;  he  canna  be  muckle  ayont  five  an'  thirty." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ? " 

"  Weel,  it's  hard  to  say.  He's  ane  o'  them  'at  nae- 
body  says  weel  o',  an'  naebody's  begud  to  say  ill 
o'— yet." 

"There  can't  be  much  amiss  with  him  then, 
surely ! " 

"  Weel,  I  wadna  gang  freely  sae  far  as  say  that. 


364  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

You  'at's  a  man  o'  sense,  maun  weel  un'erstan', 
gien  it  was  only  frae  yer  carritchis  {catechism)^  'at 
there's  baith  sins  o'  o-mission,  an'  sins  o'  co-mission. 
Noo,  what  sins  o'  co-mission  may  lie  at  my  lord's 
door,  I  dinna  ken,  an'  feow  can  ken,  an'  we're  no 
to  jeedge ;  but  for  the  o-mission,  ye  hae  but  to  see 
hoo  he  neglects  that  bonny  sister  o'  his,  to  be  far 
eneuch  frae  thinkin'  a  sant  o'  'im." 

Silence  followed.  Cosmo  would  go  no  farther  in 
that  direction :  it  would  be  fair  neither  to  Lady 
Joan  nor  the  gardener,  who  spoke  as  to  one  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  family. 

"Noo  the  father,"  resumed  his  new  friend,"  — 
puir  man,  he's  deid  an'  damned  this  mony  a  day  !  — 
an' eh,  but  he  was  an  ill  ane ! — but  as  to  Leddy 
Joan,  he  wad  hardly  bide  her  oot  o'  his  sicht.  He 
cudna  be  jist  that  agreeable  company  to  the  likes  o' 
her,  puir  leddy !  for  he  was  a  rouchrspoken,  sweirin' 
auld  sinner  as  ever  lived,  but  sic  as  he  had  he  gae 
her,  an'  was  said  to  hae  been  a  fine  gentleman  in  's 
yoong  days.  Some  wad  hae  't  he  cheenged  a' 
thegither  o'  a  suddent.  An'  they  wad  hae  't  it  cam  o' 
bluid-guiltiness  —  for  they  said  he  had  lif tit  the  reid 
han'  agen  his  neebor.  An'  they  warnt  me,  lang  as  it 
was  sin'  I  left  it,  no  to  lat  'im  ken  I  cam  frae  yon 
pairto'  the  country,  or  he  wad  be  rid  o'  me  in  a  jiffey, 
ae  w'y  or  anither.  — Ay,  it  was  a  gran'  name  that  o' 
Warlock  i'  thae  pairts !  though  they  tell  me  it  gangs 
na  for  sae  muckle  noo.  I  hae  h'ard  said,  'at  ever  sin' 
the  auld  lord  here  made  awa'  wi'  the  laird  o'  Glen- 
warlock,  the  faimily  there  never  had  ony  luck.  I 
wad  like  to  ken  what  you,  as  a  man  o'  sense,  think  o' 


THE   GARDENER.  365 


that  same.  It  appears  to  me  a'  some  queer  kin'  o* 
justice  !  No'  'at  I'm  daurin'  or  wad  daur  to  say  a 
word  agen  the  w'y  'at  the  warl'  's  goverrnt,  but  there's 
some  things  'at  naebody  can  un'erstan'  —  I  defy 
them  !  —  an'  yon's  ane  o'  them  —  what  for,  cause  oor 
graceless  auld  lord  —  he  was  yoong  than  —  tuik  the 
life  o'  the  laird  o'  Glenwarlock,  the  faimily  o'  Warlock 
sud  never  thrive  frae  that  day  to  this !  —  Read  me 
that  riddle,  yoong  man,  gien  ye  can." 

*'  Maybe  it  was  to  haud  them  'at  cam  efter  frae  ony 
mair  k'eepin'  o'  sic  ill  company,"  Cosmo  ventured  to 
suggest ;  for,  knowing  what  his  father  was,  and  some- 
thing also  of  what  most  of  those  who  preceded  him 
were,  he  could  see  no  such  inscrutable  dispensation  in 
the  fact  mentioned. 

"That  wad  be  hard  lines,  though,"  insisted  the  gar- 
dener, unwilling  to  yield  the  unintelligibility  of  the 
ways  of  providence. 

"  But,"  said  Cosmo,  "  they  say  doon  there,  it  was 
a  brither  o'  the  laird,  no  the  laird  himsel',  'at  the 
English  lord  killt." 

"Na,  na;  they're  a'  wrang  there,  whaever  says 
that.  For  auld  Jean,  wham  I  min'  a  weel  faured 
wuman,  though  doobtless  no  sae  bonny  as  whan  he 
broucht  her  wi'  'im  a  yoong  lass — maybe  to  gar  her 
haud  her  tongue  —  auld  Jean  said  as  I  say.  But 
that  was  lang  efter  the  thing  was  ower  auld  to  be 
ta'en  ony  notice  o'  mair.  Forby,  you  'at's'a  man  o' 
sense,  gien  it  wasna  the  laird  himsel'  'at  he  killt,  hoo 
wad  there,  i'  that  case,  be  onything  worthy  o'  remark 
i'  their  no  thrivin'  efter't  ?  I'  that  case,  the  no  thrivin' 
cud  hae  had  naething  ava  to  du  wi'  the  killin'.     Na, 


366  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

na,  it  was  the  laird  himsel'  'at  the  maisier  killt — the 
father  o'  the  present  laird,  I'm  thinkin'.  What  aged- 
man  micht  he  be  —  did  ye  ever  hear  tell  ?  " 

"  He's  a  man  well  on  to  seventy,"  answered  Cosmo, 
with  a  pang  at  the  thought. 

"  Ay ;  that'll  be  aboot  it !  There  can  be  no  doobt 
it  was  his  father  oor  lord  killt  —  an'  as  little  'at  efter 
he  did  it  he  gaed  doon  the  braid  ro'd  to  the  deevil  as 
fest  's  ever  he  cud  rin.  It  was  jist  like  as  wi'  Judas 
— he  maun  gang  till's  ain.  Some  said  he  had  sellt 
himsel'  to  the  deevil,  but  I'm  thinkin'  that  wasna 
necessar'.  He  was  to  get  him  ony  gait !  An'  wad 
ye  believe't,  it's  baith  said  and  believt — -'at  he  cam 
by  's  deith  i'  some  exterordnar  w'y,  no  accoontable 
for,  but  plainly  no  canny.  Ae  thing's  sure  as  deith 
itsel',  he  was  ta'en  suddent,  an'  i'  the  verra  hoose 
whaur,  mony  a  lang  year  afore,  he  commitit  the  deed 
o'  darkness ! " 

A  pause  followed,  and  then  the  narrator,  or  rather 
commentator,  resumed. 

"  I'm  thinkin'  whan  he  begud  to  ken  himsel'  growin' 
auld,  his  deed  cam  back  upon  'im  fresh-like,  an'  that 
wad  be  hoo  he  cudna  bide  to  hae  my  lady  oot  o'  the 
sicht  o'  his  een,  or  at  least  ayont  the  cry  o'  his  tongue. 
Troth  !  he  wad  whiles  come  aboot  the  place  efter  her, 
whaur  I  wad  be  at  my  wark,  as  it  micht  be  the  day, 
cursin'  an'  sweirin'  as  gien  he  had  sellt  his  sowl  to  a' 
the  deevils  thegither,  an'  sae  micht  tak  his  wull  o' 
onything  he  cud  get  his  tongue  roon' !  But  I  never 
heedit  him  that  muckle,  for  ye  see  it  wasna  him  'at 
peyt  me  —  the  mair  by  token  'at  gien  it  had  been 
him  'at  had  the  peyin'  o'  me,  it's  never  a  baubee  wad 


THE    GARDENER.  367 


I  hae  seen  o'  my  ain  siller ;  but  the  trustees  peyt  me, 
ilka  plack,  an'  sae  I  was  indepen'ent  like,  an'  luit  him 
say  his  say.  But  it  was  aye  an  oonsaitisfactory  kin' 
o'  a  thing,  for  the  trustees  they  caredna  a  bodle 
aboot  keepin'  the  place  dacent,  an'  tuik  sae  sma' 
delicht  in  ony  pleesurin'  o'  the  auld  lord,  'at  they  jist 
allooed  him  me,  an'  no  a  man  mair  nor  less  —  to  the 
gairden,  that  is.  That's  hoo  the  place  comes  to  be 
in  sic  a  disgracefu'  condeetion.  Gien  it  hadna  been 
for  rizzons  o'  my  ain,  I  wad  hae  gane,  mony's  the 
time,  for  the  sicht  o'  the  ruin  o'  things  was  beyon' 
beirin'.  But  I  bude  to  beir't ;  sae  I  bore't  an' 
bore't  till  I  cam  by  beirin'  o'  't  to  tak  it  verra  quaiet, 
an'  luik  upo'  the  thing  as  the  wull  o'  a  Providence  'at 
sudna  be  meddlet  wi'.  I  broucht  mysel'  in  fac'  to 
that  degree  o'  submission,  'at  I  gae  mysel'  no  trouble 
more,  but  jist  confint  my  ainergies  to  the  raisin'  o' 
the  kail  an'  cabbage,  the  ingons  an'  pitawtas  wantit 
aboot  the  place." 

"And  are  things  no  better,"  asked  Cosmo,  "since 
the  present  lord  succeeded  ? " 

"No  a  hair — 'cep'  it  be  'at  there's  no  sae  mony  ill 
words  fleein'  aboot  the  place.  My  lord  never  sets  his 
nose  intil  the  gairden,  or  speirs  —  no  ance  in  a  twal- 
month,  hoo's  things  gangin'  on.  He  does  naething 
but  rowt  aboot  in  's  boaratory  as  he  ca's  't  —  bore-a- 
whig,  or  bore-a-tory,  it's  little  to  me  —  makin'  stinks 
there  fit  to  scomfish  a  whaul,  an'  gar  'im  stick  his 
nose  aneth  the  watter  for  a  glamp  o'  fresh  air.  He's 
that  hard-hertit  'at  he  never  sae  muckle  as  aits  his 
denner  alongside  o'  his  ain  sister,  'cep'  it  be  whan  he 
has  company,  an'  wad  luik  like  ither  fowk.     Gien  it 


368  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

gaedna  ower  weel  wi'  her  i'  the  auld  man's  time,  it 
gangs  waur  wi'  her  noo  ;  for  sae  lang  as  he  was  abune 
the  yird  there  was  aye  somebody  to  ken  whether  she 
was  livin'  or  deid.  To  see  a  bonnie  lass  like  her 
strayin'  aboot  the  place  nae  better  companied  nor 
wi'  an  auld  bulk  —  it's  jist  eneuch  to  brak  a  man's 
hert,  but  that  age  kills  rage." 

"  Do  the  neighbours  take  no  notice  of  her  ? " 

"  Nane  o'  her  ain  dignity,  like.  Ye  see  she's  naeth- 
ing  but  bonny.  She  has  naething.  An'  though  she's 
as  guid  a  cratur  as  ever  lived,  the  cauld  grun'  o'  her 
poverty  gaithers  the  fog  o'  an  ill  report.  Troth,  for 
her  faimily,  the  ill's  there,  report  or  no  report ;  but,  a' 
the  same,  gien  she  had  been  rich,  an'  her  father  — 
I'll  no  say  the  hangman,  but  him  'at  he  last  hangt, 
there  wad  be  fowth  (^plenty)  o'  coonty-fowk  wad  hae 
her  til  her  denner  wi'  them.  An'  I'm  thinkin'  maybe 
she's  the  prooder  for  her  poverty,  an'  winna  gang  til 
her  inferriors  sae  lang  as  her  aiquals  dinna  invete  her. 
She  gangs  whiles  to  the  doctor's  —  but  he's  a  kin'  o' 
a  freen'  o'  the  yerl's,  'cause  he  likes  stinks  —  but 
that's  the  yoong  doctor." 

"  Does  her  brother  never  go  out  to  dinner  anywhere^ 
ai>d  take  her  with  him  ? " 

"  Naebody  cares  a  bodle  aboot  his  lordship  i'  the 
fhaill  country-side,  sae  far  as  I  can  learn.  There's 
ane  or  twa  —  great  men,  I  daursay — whiles  comes 
doon  frea  Lon'on,  to  smell  hoo  he's  gettin'  on  wi'  's 
jtinks,  but  deil  a  neebor  comes  nigh  the  hoose.  Ow, 
he's  a  great  man,  I  mak  nae  doobt,  awa'  frae  hame  \ 
He's  aye  writin'  letters  to  the  newspapers,  an'  they 
prent    them  —  aboot    this    an'    aboot    that  —  aboot 


THE   GARDENER.  369 


beasties  i'  the  watter,  an'  lectreesity,  an'  I  kenna 
what  a';  an'  some  says  'at  hoo  he'll  be  a  rich  man 
some  day,  the  moment  he's  dune  fin'in'  oot  something 
or  itherhe's  been  warslin'  at  for  the  feck  o'  a  ten  year 
or  sae;  but  the  gentry  never  thinks  naething  o'  a  man 
sae  lang  as  he's  only  duin'  his  best  —  or  his  warst,  as 
the  case  may  be  —  to  lay  his  han'  upo'  the  siller  "at's 
fleein'  aboot  him  like  a  snaw-drift.  Bide  ye  a  bit, 
though!  Whan  he's  gotten't,  it's  doon  they're  a' 
upo'  their  k-nees  til  'im  thegither.  But  gien  they  be 
prood,  he's  prooder,  an'  lat  him  ance  get  his  heid  up, 
an'  rid  o'  the  trustees,  an'  fowk  upo'  their  marrow- 
banes  til  'im,  haith,  he'll  lat  them  sit  there,  or  I'm 
mistaen  in  'im." 

"Then  has  my  lady  no  companions  at  all?" 

"She  gangs  whiles  to  see  the  doctor's  lass,  an' 
whiles  she  comes  here  an'  has  her  denner  wi'  her, 
themsel's  twa :    never  anither  comes  near  the  place." 

All  this  time,  Cosmo  had  been  turning  over  the 
cabbage-ground,  working  the  harder  that  he  still 
hoped  to  work  off  the  sickness  that  yet  kept  growing 
upon  him.  The  sun"  was  hot,  and  his  head,  which 
had  been  aching  more  or  less  all  day,  now  began  to 
throb  violently. 

The  spade  dropt  from  his  hands,  and  he  fell  on  his 
face  in  the  soft  mould. 

"What's  this  o'  W  cried  the  old  man,  going  up  to 
him  in  a  fright. 

He  caught  hold  of  him  by  an  arm,  and  turned  him 
on  his  back.  His  face  was  colourless,  and  the  life 
seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


LOST   AND    FOUND. 


When  Cosmo  came  to  himself,  he  had  not  a  notion 
where  he  was,  hardly  indeed  knew  what  he  was.  His 
chief  consciousness  was  of  an  emptiness  and  a  weight 
combined,  that  seemed  to  paralyze  him.  He  would 
have  turned  on  his  side,  but  felt  as  if  a  ponderous 
heap  of  bed-clothes  prevented  him  from  even  raising 
an  arm — and  yet  he  was  cold.  He  tried  to  think 
back,  to  find  what  he  knew  of  himself  last,  but  could 
for  a  long  time  recall  only  a  confused  dream  of  multi- 
tudinous discomfort  and  painful  effort.  At  last, 
however,  came  the  garden,  the  spade-work,  and  the 
old  man's  talk;  and  then  it  seemed  as  if  the  cracked 
complaining  voice  had  never  left  his  ears. 

"  I've  been  ill !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Perhaps  I 
dropped  down.     I  hope  they  haven't  buried  me  !  " 

With  a  straining  agony  of  will  he  got  in  motion  an 

arm,  which  was  lying  like  that  of  another  man  outside 

the  coverlid,  and  felt  feebly  about  him.      His  hand 

struck  against  something  solid,  and  what  seemed  a 

370 


LOST   AND    FOUND.  37 1 

handful  of  earth  fell  with  a  hollow  rumble.  Alas,  this 
seemed  ominous !  Where  could  he  be  but  in  his 
coffin  ?  The  thought  was  not  a  pleasant  one,  certainly, 
but  he  was  too  weak,  and  had  been  wandering  too 
long  in  the  miserable  limbo  of  vain  fancies,  to  be 
much  dismayed.  He  said  to  himself  he  would  not 
have  to  suffer  long — he  must  soon  go  to  sleep,  and  so 
die. 

Fatigued  with  that  one  movement,  he  lay  for  some 
time  motionless.  His  eyes  were  open,  though  he  did 
not  know  it,  and  by  and  by  he  became  aware  of  light. 
Thin,  dim,  darkly  gray,  a  particle  at  a  time,  it  grew 
about  him.  For  some  minutes  his  eyes  seemed  of 
themselves,  without  any  commission  from  him,  to 
make  inquiry  of  his  surroundings.  They  discovered 
that,  if  he  was  in  a  coffin,  or  even  in  a  sepulchre  with- 
out a  coffin,  it  was  a  large  one :  there  was  a  v/all  — 
miles  away !  The  light  grew,  and  with  it  the  convic- 
tion that  he  was  in  no  sepulchre.  But  there  the  con- 
solation ceased,  for  the  still  growing  light  revealed  no 
sign  of  ministration  or  comfort.  Above  him  was  a 
bare,  dirty,  stained  ceiling,  with  a  hole  in  it,  through 
which  stuck  skeleton  ribs  of  lath ;  around  him  were 
bare,  dirty-white  walls,  that  seemed  to  grow  out  of 
the  gray  light  of  a  wet  morning  as  the  natural  deposit 
from  such  a  solution.  Two  slender  poles,  meant  to 
support  curtains,  but  without  a  rag  of  drapery  upon 
them,  rose  at  his  feet,  like  the  masts  of  a  Charon's 
boat.  Was  he  indeed  in  the  workhouse  he  had  pre- 
ferred to  Cairncarque  ?  It  could  hardly  be,  for  there 
was  the  plaster  fallen  in  great  patches  from  the  walls 
as  well  as  the  ceiling,  and  surely  no  workhouse  woulcj 


372  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

be  allowed  to  get  into  such  a  disrepair !  He  tried 
again,  and  this  time  succeeded  in  turning  on  his  side, 
discovering  in  the  process  how  hard  the  bed  was,  and 
how  sharp  his  bones.  A  wooden  chair  stood  a  little 
beyond  his  reach,  and  upon  it  a  bottle  and  tea- 
cup. Not  another  article  could  he  discover.  Right 
under  the  hole  in  the  ceiling  a  board  was  partly 
rotted  away  in  the  floor,  and  a  cold,  damp  air,  smell- 
ing of  earth,  and  decaying  wood,  seemed  to  come 
steaming  up  through  it.  A  few  minutes  more,  he 
said  to  himself,  and  he  would  get  up,  and  out  of  the 
hideous  place,  but  he  must  lie  a  little  longer  first,  just 
to  come  to  himself! — Now  he  would  try!  —  What 
had  become  of  his  strength.?  Was  it  gone  utterly? 
Could  one  night's  illness  have  reduced  him  thus  ? 

He  seemed  to  himself  unable  to  think,  yet  the  pro- 
foundest  thought  went  on  as  if  thinking  itself  in  him. 
Where  had  his  strength  lain  before  he  lost  it  ?  Could 
that  ever  have  been  his  which  he  could  not  keep  ?  If 
a  thing  were  ours,  nothing  could  ever  take  it  from 
us !  Was  his  strength  ever  his  then  ?  Yes,  for  God 
had  given  it  him.  Then  he  could  not  have  lost  it ! 
He  had  it  still !  The  branches  of  it  were  gone,  but 
the  root  remained,  hid  in  God.  All  was  well.  If 
God  chose  that  his  child  should  lie  there,  for  this 
day,  and  to-morrow,  or  till  the  next  year,  or  if  it 
pleased  him  that  he  should  never  rise  again  with  the 
same  body,  was  that  a  thing  to  trouble  him?  He 
turned  his  back  on  the  ugly  room,  and  was  presently 
fast  asleep  again. 

Not  a  few  read  the  poems  of  a  certain  king 
brought  up  a  shepherd  lad.    From  Sunday  to  Sunday 


LOST    AND    FOUND.  373 

they  read  them.  Amongst  them,  in  their  turn,  they 
read  these  :  "  I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace  and 
sleep,  for  thou.  Lord,  only  makest  me  to  dwell  in 
safety."  Yet  not  only  do  these  readers  never  have 
such  a  feeling  in  their  own  hearts  in  consequence, 
but  they  never  even  imagine  that  David  really  had  it 
in  his.  Deeper  and  grander  things  still,  uttered  by 
this  same  shepherd-warrior,  do  they  read,  and  yet 
in  their  wisdom  will  declare  it  preposterous  that  any 
Scotch  lad  should  have  such  a  feeling  towards  God 
as  I  have  represented  !  "  Doth  God  care  for  oxen  ?  " 
says  St.  Paul.  Doth  God  care  for  kings  ?  I  ask,  or 
for  Jew-shepherds  ?  Or  does  he  not  care  all  over  for 
all  of  us  — oxen  and  kings  and  sparrows  and  Scotch 
lairds  ?  According  to  such  blind  seers,  less  is  to  be 
expected  of  humanity  since  the  son  of  David  came, 
than  it  was  capable  of  in  his  father  David.  Such 
men  build  stone  houses,*  but  never  a  spiritual  nest. 
They  cannot  believe  the  thing  possible  which  yet 
another  man  ^oes.  Nor  ever  may  they  believe  it  be- 
fore they  begin  to  do  it.  I  wonder  little  at  so  many 
rejecting  Christianity,  while  so  many  would-be  cham- 
pions of  it  hold  theirs  at  arm's  length  —  in  their 
bibles,  in  their  theories,  in  their  church,  in  their  cler- 
gyman, in  their  prayer-books,  in  the  last  devotional 
page  they  have  read  —  a  separable  thing — not  in  their 
hearts  on  their  beds  in  the  stillness  ;  not  their  comfort 
in  the  night-watches  ;  not  the  strength  of  their  days, 
the  hope  and  joy  of  their  conscious  being  !  God  is 
nearer  to  me  than  the  air  I  breathe,  nearer  to  me 
than  the  heart  of  wife  or  child,  nearer  to  me  than  my 
own  consciousness  of  myself,  nearer  to  me  than  the 


374  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

words  in  which  I  speak  to  him,  nearer  than  the 
thought  roused  in  me  by  the  story  of  his  perfect  son 
—  or  he  is  no  God  at  all.  The  unbelievers  might 
well  rejoice  in  the  loss  of  such  a  God  as  many  Chris- 
tians would  make  of  him.  But  if  he  be  indeed  the 
Father  of  our  Lord  Christ,  of  that. Jew  who  lived  and 
died  doing  the  will  of  his  Father,  and  nothing  but  that 
will,  then,  to  all  eternity,  "  Amen,  thy  will  be  done, 
O  God  !  and  nothing  but  thy  will,  in  or  through 
me  ! " 

Cosmo  had  been  ill  a  whole  week  —  in  fever  and 
pain,  and  was  now  helpless  almost  as  an  infant.  The 
old  man  had  gone  for  his  wife,  and  between  them 
they  had  persuaded  him,  though  all  but  unconscious, 
to  exert  himself  sufficiently  to  reach  the  house.  This 
effort  he  could  recall,  in  the  shape  of  an  intermina- 
ble season  during  which  he  supported  the  world  for 
Atlas,  that  he  might  get  a  little  sleep  ;  but  it  was 
only  the  aching  w^eight  of  his  own  microcosm  that  he 
urged  Atlanlean  force  to  carry.  They  took  him  direct 
to  the  room  where  he  now  lay,  for  they  had  them- 
selves but  one  chamber,  and  if  they  took  him  there, 
what  would  become  of  the  old  bones  to  which  the 
gardener  was  so  fond  of  referring  in  his  colloquies 
with  himself  ?  Also,  it  might  be  some  fever  he  had 
taken,  and  their  own  lives  were  so  much  the  more 
precious  that  so  much  of  them  was  gone  !  Like  most  of 
us,  they  were  ready  to  do  their  next  best  for  him.  They 
spared  some  of  their  own  poor  comforts  to  furnish 
the  skeleton  bed  for  him ;  and  there  he  lay,  like  one 
adrift  in  a  rotten  boat  on  the  ebbing  ocean  of  life, 
while  the  old  woman  trudged  away  to  the  village  to 


LOST   AND    FOUND.  375 

tell  the  doctor  that  there  was  a  young  Scotch  gar- 
dener taken  suddenly  ill  at  their  quarters  in  the  castle. 

The  doctor  sent  his  son,  a  man  about  thirty,  who 
after  travelling  some  years  as  medical  attendant  to  a 
nobleman,  had  settled  in  his  native  village  as  his  fa- 
ther's partner.  He  prescribed  for  Cosmo,  and  gave 
hope  that  there  was  nothing  infectious  about  the 
case.  Every  day  during  the  week  he  had  come  to 
see  him,  and  the  night  before  had  been  with  him 
from  dark  to  dawn. 

The  gardener's  wife  had  informed  Lady  Joan  that  a 
young  Scotchman  who  had  come  to  her  husband 
seeking  employment,  had  been  taken  suddenly  ill, 
and  was  lying  in  a  room  in  the  old  wing ;  and  Lady 
Joan  had  said  she  would  speak  to  the  housekeeper 
to  let  her  have  whatever  she  wanted  for  him.  The 
doctor  saw  Lady  Joan  most  every  time  he  came  to 
see  Cosmo,  and  she  would  enquire  how  his  patient 
was  going  on  ;  she  would  also  hear  the  housekeeper's 
complaints  of  the  difficulty  she  had  in  getting  wine 
from  the  butler  —  of  which  there  was  no  lack,  only 
he  grudged  it,  for  he  was  doing  his  best  to  drink  up 
the  stock  the  old  lord  had  left  behind  him,  intending 
to  take  his  departure  with  the  last  bottle  —  but  she 
took  no  farther  interest  in  the  affair.  The  castle 
was  like  a  small  deserted  village,  and  there  was  no 
necessity  for  a  person  in  one  part  of  it  knowing  what 
was  taking  place  in  another. 

But  that  same  morning  she  had  a  letter  from  the 
laird,  saying  he  was  uneasy  about  his  boy.  He  had 
been  so  inconsiderate,  he  informed  her,  as  to  set  out 
to  visit  her  without  asking  her  leave,  or  even  warning 


376  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

her  of  his  intent;  and  since  the  letter  announcing 
his  immediate  departure,  received  a  fortnight  before, 
he  had  not  heard  of  or  from  him.  This  set  Joan 
thinking.  And  the  immediate  result  was,  that  she 
went  to  the  gardener's  wife,  and  questioned  her  con- 
cerning the  appearance  of  her  patient.  In  the  old 
woman's  answers  she  certainly  could  recognize  no 
likeness  to  Cosmo ;  but  he  must  have  altered  much 
in  seven  years,  and  she  could  not  be  satisfied  without 
seeing  the  young  man. 

Cosmo  lay  fast  asleep,  and  dreaming  —  but  pleas- 
ant dreams  now,  for  the  fever  gone,  life  was  free  to 
build  its  own  castles.  He  thought  he  was  dead,  and 
floating  through  the  air  at  his  will,  volition  all  that 
was  necessary  to  propel  him  like  a  dragon-fly,  in  any 
direction  he  desired  to  take.  He  was  about  to  go  to 
his  father,  to  receive  his  congratulations  on  his  death, 
and  to  say  to  him  that  now  the  sooner  he  too  died 
the  better,  that  the  creditors  might  have  the  property, 
everybody  be  paid,  and  they  two  and  his  mother  be 
together  for  always.  But  first,  before  he  set  out,  he 
must  have  one  sight  of  Lady  Joan,  and  in  that  hope 
was  now  hovering  about  the  towers  of  the  castle.  He 
was  slowly  circling  the  two  great  ones  of  the  gateway, 
crossing  a  figure  of  eight  over  the  gallery  where  stood 
the  machinery  of  the  portcullis,  when  down  he 
dropped,  and  lay  bruised  and  heavy,  unable  by 
fiercest  effort  of  the  will  to  move  an  inch  from  the 
spot.  He  was  making  the  reflection  how  foolish  it 
was  to  begin  to  fly  before  assuring  himself  that  he 
was  dead,  and  was  resolving  to  be  quite  prudent 
another  time,  when  he  felt  as  if  a  warm  sunny  cloud 


LOST   AND    FOUND.  377 


came  over  him,  which  made  him  open  his  eyes.  They 
gradually  cleared,  and  above  him  he  saw  the  face  of 
his  many  dreams  —  a  little  sadder  than  it  was  in 
them,  but  more  beautiful. 

Cosmo  had  so  much  of  the  childlike  in  him  that 
illness  made  him  almost  a  very  child  again,  and  when 
he  saw  Joan's  face  bending  over  him  like  a  living  sky, 
just  as  any  child  might  have  done,  he  put  his  arms 
round  her  neck,  and  drew  her  face  down  to  his. 
Hearts  get  uppermost  in  illness,  and  people  then  be- 
have as  they  would  not  in  health.  More  is  in  it  than 
is  easily  found.  There  is  such  a  dumb  prayer  in  the 
spirit  to  be  taken! 

Till  he  opened  his  eyes  Lady  Joan  had  been  un- 
able to  satisfy  herself  whether  the  pale,  worn,  yet 
grand-looking  youth  could  indeed  be  the  lad  Cosmo, 
and  was  not  at  all  prepared  for  such  precipitate  famil- 
iarity :  the  moment  she  was  released,  she  drew  back 
with  some  feeling,  if  not  of  offence,  yet  of  annoyance. 
But  such  a  smile  flooded  Cosmo's  face,  mingled  with 
such  a  pleading  look  of  apology  and  excuse,  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  How  could  I  help  it  ?  "  that  she  was 
ashamed  of  herself.  It  was  the  same  true  face  as 
the  boy's,  with  its  old  look  of  devotion  and  gentle 
worship !  To  make  all  right  she  stooped  of  her  own 
accord,  and  kissed  his  forehead. 

"  Thank  you,"  murmured  Cosmo,  his  own  voice 
sounding  to  him  like  that  of  another.  "Don't  be 
vexed  with  me.  I  am  but  a  baby,  and  have  no  mother. 
When  I  saw  you,  it  was  4s  if  heaven  had  come  down 
into  hell,  and  I  did  not  think  to  help  it.  How  beauti- 
ful you  are  !     How  good  of  you  to  come  to  me ! " 


378  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Oh,  Cosmo  I  "  cried  Lady  Joan —  and  now  large 
silent  tears  were  running  down  her  cheeks  —  "to 
think  of  the  way  you  and  your  father  took  me  and 
mine  in,  and  here  you  have  been  lying  ill — I  don't 
know  how  long  —  in  a  place  not  fit  for  a -beggar  !  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  am  !  "  returned  Cosmo  with  a 
smile,  feeling  already  almost  well.  "  I  have  such  a 
long  story  to  tell  you,  Joan !     I  remember  all  about 

it  DOW." 

"  Why  didn't  you  write,  —  ? "  said  Joan,  and 
checked  herself,  for  alas !  if  he  had  written,  what 
would  she  not  have  found  herself  compelled  to  do  !  — 
"  Why  didn't  you  send  for  me  at  once  ?  They  told 
me  there  was  a  young  gardener  lying  ill,  and  of 
course  I  never  dreamed  it  could  be  you.  But  I 
know  if  you  had  heard  at  Castle  Warlock  that  a 
stranger  was  lying  ill  somewhere  about  the  place,  you 
would  have  gone  to  him  at  once  !  It  was  very  wrong 
of  me,  and  I  am  sorely  punished  !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Cosmo  ;  "  it's  all  right  now.  I 
have  you,  audit  makes  me  well  again  all  at  once. 
When  I  see  you  standing  there,  looking  just  as  you 
used,  all  the  time  between  is  shrivelled  up  to  nothing, 
and  the  present  joins  right  on  to  the  past.  But 
you  look  sad,  Joan  !  —  I  may  call  you  Joan  still, 
mayn't  I?" 

"  Surely,  Cosmo.  What  else  ?  I  haven't  too  many 
to  call  me  Joan  !  " 

"  But  what  makes  you  look  sad  ?  " 

"Isn't  it  enough  to  think  how  I  have  treated 
you?" 

"  You  didn't  know  it  was  me,"  said  Cosmo. 


LOST   AND    FOUND.  379 

"  That  is  true.  But  if,  as  your  father  taught  you,  I 
had  done  it  to  Him  —  " 

"Well,  there's  one  thing,  Joan  —  you'll  do  differ- 
ently another  time." 

"  I  can't  be  sure  of  that,  for  my  very  heart  grows 
stupid,  living  here  all  alone." 

"  Anyhow,  you  will  have  ^  trouble  enough  with  me 
for  awhile,  fast  as  your  eyes  can  heal  me,"  said 
Cosmo,  who  began  to  be  aware  of  a  reaction. 

Lady  Joan's  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  but  the 
next  moment  grew  pale  again  at  the  thought  of  how 
little  she  could  do  for  him. 

"  The  first  thing,"  she  said,  ''  is  to  write  to  your 
father.  When  he  knows  I  have  got  you,  he  won't  be 
uneasy.     I  will  go  and  do  it  at  once." 

Almost  the  moment  she  left  him,  Cosmo  fell  fast 
asleep  again. 

But  now  was  Lady  Joan,  if  not  in  perplexity,  yet 
in  no  small  discomfort.  It  made  her  miserable  to 
think  of  Cosmo  in  such  a  place,  yet  she  could  not 
help  saying  to  herself  it  was  well  he  had  not  written, 
for  she  must  then  have  asked  him  not  to  come  :  now 
that  he  was  in  the  house,  she  dared  not  tell  her 
brother ;  and  were  she  to  move  him  to  any  comforta- 
ble room  in  the  castle,  he  would  be  sure  to  hear  of  it 
from  the  butler,  for  the  less  faith  carried,  the  more 
favour  curried  !  One  thing  only  was  in  her  power  : 
she  could  make  the  room  he  was  in  comparatively 
comfortable.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  she  had  written 
a  hurried  letter  to  the  laird,  she  went  hastily  through 
some  of  the  rooms  nearest  the  part  in  which  Cosmo 
lay,  making  choice  of  this  and  of  that  for  her  purpose : 


380         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

in  the  great,  all  but  uninhabited  place  there  were 
naturally  many  available  pieces  of  stuff  and  of  furni- 
ture. These  she  then  proceeded,  with  her  own 
hands,  and  the  assistance  of  the  gardener  and  his 
wife,  to  carry  to  his  room ;  and  when  she  found  he 
was  asleep,  she  put  forth  every  energy  to  get  the 
aspect  of  the  place  altered  before  he  should  wake. 
With  noiseless  steps  she  entered  and  left  the  room 
fifty  times ;  and  by  making  use  of  a  door  which  had 
not  been  opened  for  perhaps  a  hundred  years,  she 
avoided  attracting  the  least  attention. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


A    TRANSFORMATION. 


When  Cosmo  the  second  time  opened  his  eyes,  he 
was  afresh  bewildered.  Which  was  the  dream  — 
that  vision  of  wretchedness,  or  this  of  luxur}'  ?  If  it 
was  not  a  dream,  how  had  they  moved  him  without 
once  disturbing  his  sleep  ?  It  was  as  marvellous  as 
anything  in  the  Arabian  Nights !  Could  it  be  the 
same  chamber  ?  Not  a  thing  seemed  the  same,  yet  in 
him  was  a  doubtful  denial  of  transportance.  Yes, 
the  ceiling  was  the  same  !  The  power  of  the  good 
fairy  had  not  reached  to  the  transformation  of  that ! 
But  the  walls !  Instead  of  the  great  hole  in  the 
plaster  close  by  the  bed,  his  eyes  fell  on  a  piece  of 
rich  old  tapestry  !  Curtains  of  silk  damask,  all  be- 
spotted  with  quaintest  flowers,  each  like  a  page  of 
Chaucer's  poetry,  hung  round  his  bed,  quite  other 
than  fit  sails  for  the  Stygian  boat.  They  had  made 
the  bed  as  different  as  the  vine  in  summer  from  the 
vine  in  winter.  A  quilt  of  red  satin  lay  in  the  place 
of  the  patchwork  coverlid.      Everything   had   been 


382  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

changed.  He  thought  the  mattress  felt  soft  under 
him  —  but  that  was  only  a  fancy,  for  he  saw  before 
the  fire  the  feather-bed  intended  to  lie  between  him 
and  it.  He  felt  like  a  tended  child,  in  absolute 
peace  and  bliss  —  or  like  one  just  dead,  while  yet 
weary  with  the  struggle  to  break  free.  He  seemed 
to  recall  the  content,  of  which  some  few  vaguest  fila 
ments,  a  glance  and  no  more,  still  float  in  the  sum- 
mer-air of  many  a  memory,  wherein  the  child  lies,  but 
just  awaked  to  consciousness  and  the  mere  bliss  of 
being,  before  wrong  has  begun  to  cloud  its  pure  at- 
mosphere. For  Cosmo  had  nothing  on  his  con- 
science to  trouble  it ;  his  mind  was  stored  with  lovely 
images  and  was  fruitful  in  fancies,  because  in  tem- 
perament, faith,  and  use,  he  was  a  poet ;  the  evil 
vapours  of  fever,  had  just  lifted  from  his  brain,  and 
were  floating  away  in  the  light  of  the  sun  of  life ;  he 
felt  the  pressure  of  no  duty  —  was  like  a  bird  of 
the  air  lying  under  its  mother's  wing,  and  dreaming 
of  flight ;  his  childhood's  most  cherished  dream  had 
grown  fact :  there  was  the  sylph,  the  oriad,  the  naiad 
of  all  his  dreams,  a  living  lady  before  his  eyes  —  nor 
the  less  a  creature  of  his  imagination's  heart ;  from 
her,  as  the  centre  of  power,  had  all  the  marvellous 
transformation  proceeded  ;  and  the  lovely  strength 
had  kissed  him  on  the  forehead  !  The  soul  of  Cosmo 
floated  in  rapturous  quiet,  like  the  evening  star  in  a 
rosy  cloud. 

But  I  return  to  the  earthly  shore  that  bordered 
this  heavenly  sea.  The  old-fashioned,  out-swelling 
grate,  loose  and  awry  in  its  setting,  had  a  keen  little 
fire  burning  in  it,  of  which,  summer  as  it  was,  the 


A    TRANSFORMATION.  383 

mustiness  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  damp  of  the 
walls,  more  than  merely  admitted.  The  hole  in  the 
floor  had  vanished  under  a  richly  faded  Turkey  car- 
pet; and  a  luxurious  sofa,  in  blue  damask,  faded 
almost  to  yellow,  stood  before  the  fire,  to  receive 
him  the  moment  he  should  cease  to  be  a  chrysalis. 
And  there  in  an  easy  chair  by  the  corner  of  the 
hearth,  wonder  of  all  loveliest  wonders,  sat  the  fairy- 
godmother  herself,  as  if  she  had  but  just  waved  her 
wand,  and  everything  had  come  to  her  will !  —  the 
fact  being,  however,  that  the  poor  fairy  was  not  a  little 
tired  in  legs  and  arms  and  feet  and  hands  and  head,  and 
preferred  contemplating  what  she  had  already  done, 
to  doing  anything  more  for  the  immediate  present. 

Cosmo  lay  watching  her.  He  dared  not  move  a 
hand,  lest  she  should  move ;  for,  though  it  might 
be  to  rise  and  come  to  him,  would  it  not  be  to  change 
what  he  saw  ?  —  and  what  he  saw  was  so  much 
enough,  that  he  would  see  it  forever,  and  desired 
nothing  else.  She  turned  her  eyes,  and  seeing  the 
large  orbs  of  the  youth  fixed  upon  her,  smiled  as  she 
had  not  smiled  before,  for  a  great  weight  was  off  her 
heart  now  that  the  room  gave  him  a  little  welcome. 
True,  it  was  after  all  but  a  hypocrite  of  a  room,  —  a 
hypocrite,  however,  whose  meaning  was  better  than 
its  looks ! 

He  put  out  his  hand,  and  she  rose  and  came  and 
laid  hers  in  it.     Suddenly  he  let  it  go. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know 
when  my  hands  were  washed  !  The  last  I  remember 
is  digging  in  the  garden.  I  wish  I  might  wash  my 
face  and  hands  !  " 


384  WARLOCK   O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

"  You  mustn't  think  of  it !  you  can't  sit  up  yet," 
said  Lady  Joan.  "  But  never  mind :  some  people 
are  always  clean.  You  should  see  my  brother's 
hands  sometimes  !  I  will,  if  you  like,  bring  you  a 
towel  with  a  wet  corner.  I  dare  say  that  will  do  you 
good." 

She  poured  water  into  a  basin  from  a  kettle  on  the 
hob,  and  dipping  the  corner  of  a  towel  in  it,  brought 
it  to  him.  He  tried  to  use  it,  but  his  hands  obeyed 
him  so  ill  that  she  took  it  from  him,  and  herself 
wiped  with  it  his  face  and  hands,  and  then  dried  them 
—  so  gently,  so  softly,  he  thought  that  must  be  how 
his  mother  did  with  him  when  he  was  a  baby.  All 
the  time,  he  lay  looking  up  at  her  with  a  grateful 
smile.  She  then  set  about  preparing  him  some  tea 
and  toast,  during  which  he  watched  her  every 
motion.  When  he  had  had  the  tea,  he  fell  asleep, 
and  when  he  woke  next  he  was  alone. 

An  hour  or  so  later,  the  gardener's  wife  brought  him 
a  basin  of  soup,  and  when  he  had  taken  it,  told  him 
she  would  then  leave  him  for  the  night :  if  he  wanted 
anything,  as  there  was  no  bell,  he  myst  pull  the 
string  she  tied  to  the  bed-post.  He  was  very  weary, 
but  so  comfortable,  and  so  happy,  his  brain  so  full  of 
bright  yet  soft-coloured  things,  that  he  felt  as  if  he 
would  not  mind  being  left  ages  alone.  He  was 
but  two  and  twenty,  with  a  pure  conscience,  and  an 
endless  hope  — ■  so  might  he  not  well  lie  quiet  in  his 
bed  ? 

By  the  middle  of  the  night,  however,  the  tide  of 
returning  health  showed  a  check ;  there  came  a 
Strong  reaction,  with  delirium  ;  his  pulse  was  high, 


A    TRANSFORMATION.  385 

and  terrible  fancies  tormented  him,  through  which 
passed  continually  with  persistent  recurrence  the 
figure  of  the  old  captain,  always  swinging  a  stick 
about  his  head,  and  crooning  to  himself  the  foolish 
rime, 

"  Catch  yer  naig  an'  pu*  his  tail ; 
In  his  hin'  heel  caw  a  nail ; 
Rug  his  lugs  f rae  ane'  anither ; 
Stan'  up,  an'  ca'  the  king  yer  brither." 

At  last,  at  the  moment  when  once  more  his  perse- 
cutor was  commencing  his  childish  ditty,  he  felt  as  if, 
from  the  top  of  a  mountain  a  hundred  miles  away,  a 
cold  cloud  came  journeying  through  the  sky,  and  de- 
scended upon  him.  He  opened  his  eyes  :  there  was 
Joan,  and  the  cold  cloud  was  her  soft  cool  hand  on  his 
forehead.  The  next  thing  he  knew  was  that  she  was 
feeding  him  like  a  child.  But  he  did  not  know  that 
she  never  left  him  again  till  the  morning,  when, 
seeing  him  gently  asleep,  she  stole  away  like  a  ghost 
in  the  gray  dawn. 

The  next  day  he  was  better,  but  for  several  nights 
the  fever  returned,  and  always  in  his  dreams  he  was 
haunted  by  variations  on  the  theme  of  the  auld 
captain  ;  and  for  several  days  he  felt  as  if  he  did  n:)t 
want  to  get  better,  but  would  lie  forever  a  dreamer 
in  the  enchanted  palace  of  the  glamoured  ruin.  But 
that  was  only  his  weakness,  and  gradually  he  gained 
strength. 

Every  morning  and  every  afternoon  Lady  Joan 
visited  him,  waited  on  him,  and  staid  a  longer  or 
shorter  time,  now  talking,  now  reading  to  him ;  and 


386  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

seldom  would  she  be  a  whole  evening  absent  —  then 
only  on  the  rare  occasion  when  Lord  Mergwain, 
having  some  one  to  dine  with  him  of  the  more  ordi- 
nary social  stamp,  desired  her  presence  as  lady  of 
the  house.  Even  then  she  would  almost  always  have 
a  peep  at  him  one  time  or  another.  She  did  not 
know  much  about  books,  but  would  take  up  this  or 
that,  almost  as  it  chanced  to  her  hand  in  the  library ; 
and  Cosmo  cared  little  what  she  read,  so  long  as  he 
could  hear  her  voice,  which  often  beguiled  'him  into 
the  sweetest  sleep  with  visions  of  home  and  his 
father.  If  the  story  she  read  was  foolish,  it  mattered 
nothing;  he  would  mingle  with  it  his  own  fancies, 
and  weave  the  whole  into  the  loveliest  of  foolish 
dreams,  all  made  up  of  unaccountably  reasonable  in- 
congruities :  the  sensible  look  in  dreams  of  what  to 
the  waking  mind  is  utterly  incoherent,  is  the  most 
puzzling  of  things  to  him  who  would  understand  his 
own  unreason.  And  the  wild  mdrchefihaff  lovelinesses 
that  fashioned  themselves  thus  in  his  brain,  out- 
wardly lawless,  but  inwardly  so  harmonious  as  to  be 
altogether  credible  to  the  dreamer,  were  not  lost  in 
the  fluttering  limbo  of  foolish  invention,  but,  in 
altered  shape  and  less  outlandish  garments,  appeared 
again,  when,  in  after  years,  he  sought  vent  for  the  all 
but  unspeakable.  During  this  time  he  would  often 
talk  verse  in  his  sleep,  such  as  to  Lady  Joan,  at  least, 
sometimes  seemed  lovely,  though  she  never  could 
get  a  hold  of  it,  she  said  ;  for  always,  just  as  she 
seemed  on  the  point  of  understanding  it,  he  would 
cease,  and  her  ears  would  ache  with  the  silence. 
One  warm  evening,  when  now  a  good  deal  better, 


A    TRANSFORMATION.  387 

and  able  to  sit  up  a  part  of  the  day,  Cosmo  was  lying 
on  the  sofa,  watching  her  face  as  she  read.  Through 
the  age-dusted  window  came  the  glowing  beams  of 
the  setting  sun,  lined  and  dulled  and  blotted.  They 
fell  on  her  hands,  and  her  hands  reflected  them,  in  a 
pale  rosy  gleam,  upon  her  face. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  in  the  red  light,  Joan ! " 
said  Cosmo. 

"  That's  the  light,  not  me,"  she  returned. 

"  Yes,  it  is  you.  The  red  light  shows  you  more  as 
you  are.  In  the  dark  eveji  you  do  not  look  beautiful. 
Then  you  may  say  if  you  like,  '  That  is  the  dark,  not 
me.'  Don't  you  remember  what  Portia  says  in  The 
Merchant  of  Venice, 

*  The  crow  doth  sing  as  sweetly  as  the  lark 
When  neither  is  attended ;  and  I  think 
The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren. 
How  many  things  by  reason  reasoned  are 
To  their  right  praise  and  true  perfection !' 

You  see  he  says,  not  that  beautiful  things  owe  their 
beauty,  but  the  right  seeing  of  their  beauty,  to  cir- 
cumstance. So  the  red  light  makes  me  see  you  more 
beautiful  —  not  than  you  are  —  that  could  not  be  — 
but  than  I  could  see  you  in  another  light  —  a  gray 
one  for  instance." 

"  You  mustn't  flatter  me,  Cosmo.  You  don't  know 
what  harm  you  may  do  me." 

"  I  love  you  too  much  to  flatter  you,"  he  said. 

She  raised  the  book,  and  began  to  read  again. 


388  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Cosmo  had  gone  on  as  he  began — had  never  nar- 
rowed the  channels  that  lay  wide  and  free  betwixt 
his  soul  and  his  father  and  Mr.  Simon  ;  Lady  Joan 
had  no  such  aqueducts  to  her  ground,  and  many  a 
bitter  wind  blew  across  its  wastes ;  it  ought  not  there- 
fore to  be  matter  of  surprise  that,  although  a  little 
younger,  Cosmo  should  be  a  good  way  ahead  of  Joan 
both  in  knowledge  and  understanding.  Hence  the 
conversations  they  now  had  were  to  Joan  like  water 
to  a  thirsty  soul — the  hope  of  the  secret  of  life,  where 
death  had  seemed  waiting  at  the  door.  She  would 
listen  to  the  youth,  rendered  the  more  enthusiastic 
by  his  weakness,  as  to  a  messenger  from  the  land  of 
truth.  In  the  old  time  she  had  thought  Cosmo  a 
wonderful  boy,  saying  the  strangest  things  like  com- 
mon things  everybody  knew :  now  he  said  more  won- 
derful things  still,  she  thought,  but  as  if  he  knevr 
they  were  strange,  and  did  his  best  to  make  it  easier 
to  receive  them.  She  wondered  whether,  if  he  had 
been  a  woman  with  a  history  like  hers,  he  would  have 
been  able  to  keep  that  bright  soul  shining  through 
all  the  dreariness,  to  see  through  the  dusty  windows 
the  unchanged  beauty  of  things,  and  save  alive  his 
glorious  hope.  She  began  to  see  that  she  had  not 
begun  at  the  beginning  with  anything,  had  let  things 
draw  her  this  way  and  that,  nor  put  forth  any  effort 
to  master  circumstance  by  accepting  its  duty. 

On  Cosmo's  side,  the  passion  of  the  believer  in  the 
unseen  had  laid  hold  upon  him ;  and  as  the  gardener 
awaits  the  blossoming  of  some  strange  plant,  of  whose 
loveliness  marvellous  tales  have  reached  his  ears,  so 
did  he  wait  for  something  entrancing  to  issue  from 


A    TRANSFORMATION.  389 

the  sweet  twilight  sadnesses  of  her  being,  the  gleams 
that  died  into  dusk,  the  deep  voiceless  ponderings 
into  which  she  would  fall. 

They  talked  now  about  any  book  they  were  read- 
ing, but  it  mattered  little  more  what  it  was,  for  even  a 
stupid  book  served  as  well  as  another  to  set  their 
own  fountains  flowing.  That  afternoon  Joan  was 
reading  from  one  partly  written,  partly  compiled,  in 
the  beginning  of  the  century,  somewhat  before  its 
time  in  England.  It  might  have  been  the  work  of 
an  imitator  at  once  of  de  la  Motte  Fouqu^,  and  the 
old  British  romancers.     And  this  was  what  she  read. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE   STORY  OF   THE    KNIGHT  WHO   SPOKE   THE   TRUTH. 

There  was  once  a  country  in  which  dwelt  a  knight 
whom  no  lady  of  the  land  would  love,  and  that  be- 
cause he  spake  the  truth.  For  the  other  knights,  all 
in  that  land,  would  say  to  the  ladies  they  loved,  that 
of  all  ladies  in  the  world  they  were  the  most  beauti- 
ful, and  the  most  gracious,  yea  in  all  things  the  very 
first ;  and  thereby  the  ladies  of  that  land  were  taught 
to  love  their  own  praise  best,  and  after  that  the  knight 
who  was  the  best  praiser  of  each,  and  most  enabled 
her  to  think  well  of  herself  in  spite  of  doubt.  And 
the  knight  who  would  not  speak  save  truly,  they 
mockingly  named  Sir  Verity,  which  name  some  of 
them  did  again  miscall  Severity,  —  for  the  more  he 
loved,  the  more  it  was  to  him  impossible  to  tell  a  lie. 
And  thus  it  came  about  that  one  after  another  he  was 
hated  of  them  all.  For  so  it  was,  that,  greedy  of  his 
commendation,  this  lady  and  that  would  draw  him 
on  to  speak  of  that  wherein  she  made  it  her  pleasure 
to  take  to  herself  excellences  ;  but  nowise  so  could 

390 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    KNIGHT. 


39^ 


any  one  of  them  all  gain  from  him  other  than  a  true 
judgment.  As  thus  :  one  day  said  unto  him  a  lady, 
"  Which  of  us,  think  you,  Sir  Verity,  hath  the  darkest 
eyes  of  all  the  ladies  here  at  the  court  of  our  lord 
the  king?"  And  he  thereto  made  answer,  "Verily, 
methinketh  the  queen."  Then  said_  she  unto  him, 
"  Who  then  hath  the  bluest  eyes  of  all  the  ladies  at 
the  court  of  our  lord  the  king?  "  —  for  that  her  own 
were  of  the  colour  of  the  heavens  when  the  year  is 
young.  And  he  answered,  "  I  think  truly  the  Lady 
Coryphane  hath  the  bluest  of  all  their  blue  eyes. 
Then  said  she,  "  And  I  think  truly  by  thine  answer, 
Severity,  that  thou  lovest  me  not,  for  else  wouldst 
thou  have  known  that  mine  eyes  are  as  blue  as  Cor}'- 
phane's."  "  Nay  truly,"  he  answered ;  "  for  my  heart 
knoweth  well  that  thine  eyes  are  blue,  and  that  they 
are  lovely,  and  to  me  the  dearest  of  all  eyes,  but  to 
say  they  are  the  bluest  of  all  eyes,  that  I  may  not, 
for  therein  should  I  be  no  true  man."  Therewith  was 
the  lady  somewhat  shamed,  and  seeking  to  cover 
her  vanity,  did  answer  and  say,  "It  may  well  be,  sir 
knight,  for  how  can  I  tell  who  see  not  mine  own  eyes, 
and  would  therefore  know  of  thee,  of  whom  men  say, 
some  that  thou  speakest  truly,  other  some  that  thou 
speakest  naughtily.  But  be  the  truth  as  it  may,  every 
knight  yet  saith  to  his  own  mistress  that  in  all  things 
she  is  the  paragon  of  the  world."  "  Then,"  quoth 
the  knight,  "  she  that  knoweth  that  every  man  saith 
so,  must  know  also  that  only  one  of  them  all  saith  the 
thing  that  is  true.  Not  willingly  would  I  add  to  the 
multitude  of  the  lies  that  do  go  about  the  world  ! " 
''  Now  '.  erilv  am  I  sure  that  thou  dost  not  love  me," 


392  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

cried  the  lady ;  "  for  all  men  do  say  of  mine  eyes  —  " 
Thereat  she  stayed  words,  and  said  no  more,  that  he 
might  speak  again.  "Lady,"  said  Sir  Verity,  and 
spake  right  solemnly, "  as  I  said  before  I  do  say 
again,  and  in  truth,  that  thine  eyes  are  to  me  the 
dearest  of  all  eyes.  But  they  might  be  the  bluest  or 
the  blackest,  the  greenest  or  the  grayest,  yet  would 
I  love  them  all  the  same.  For  for  none  of  those 
colours  would  they  be  dear  to  me,  but  for  the  cause 
that  they  were  thine  eyes.  For  I  love  thine  eyes  be- 
cause they  are  thine,  not  thee  because  thine  eyes  are 
or  this  or  that."  Then  that  lady  brake  forth  into 
bitter  weeping,  and  would  not  be  comforted,  neither 
thereafter  would  hold  converse  with  the  knight.  For 
in  that  country  it  was  the  pride  of  a  lady's  life  to  lie 
lapt  in  praises,  and  breathe  the  air  of  the  flatteries 
blown  into  her  ears  by  them  who  would  be  counted 
her  lovers.  Then  said  the  knight  to  himself,  "Verily, 
and  yet  again,  her  eyes  are  not  the  bluest  in  the 
world  !  It  seemeth  to  me  as  that  the  ladies  in  this 
land  should  never  love  man  aright,  seeing,  alas  !  they 
love  the  truth  from  no  man's  lips ;  for  save  they  may 
each  think  herself  better  than  all  the  rest,  then  is 
not  life  dear  unto  them.  I  will  forsake  this  land,  and 
go  where  the  truth  may  be  spoken  nor  the  speaker 
thereof  hated."  He  put  on  his  armour,  with  never 
lady  nor  squire  nor  page  to  draw  thong  or  buckle 
spur,  and  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  forth  to  leave 
the  land.  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  on  his  way  he 
entered  a  great  wood.  And  as  he  went  through  the 
wood,  he  heard  a  sobbing  and  a  crying  in  the  wood. 
And  he  said  to  himself, "  Verily,  here  is  some  one 


THE   STORY   OF    THE    KNIGHT.  393 

wronged  and  lamenteth  greatly !  I  will  go  and  help." 
So  about  he  rode  searchingly,  until  he  came  to  the 
place  whither  he  was  led.  And  there,  at  the  foot  of 
a  great  oak,  he  found  an  old  woman  in  a  gray  cloak, 
with  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  weeping  right  on, 
neither  ceased  she  for  the  space  of  a  sigh.  "  What 
aileth  thee,  good  mother  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  am  not 
good,  and  I  am  not  thy  mother,"  she  answered,  and 
began  again  to  weep.  "  Ah  ! "  thought  the  knight, 
"  here  is  one  woman  that  loveth  the  truth,  for  she 
speaks  the  truth,  and  would  not  that  aught  but  the 
truth  be  spoken !  —  How  can  I  help  thee,  woman," 
he  said  then,  "  although  in  truth  thou  art  not  my 
mother,  and  I  may  not  call  thee  good  ? "  "  By 
taking  thyself  from  me,"  she  answered.  "  Then  will 
I  ride  on  my  way,"  said  the  knight,  and  turning,  rode 
on  his  way.  Then  rose  the  woman  to  her  feet,  and 
followed  him.  "  Wherefore  followest  thou  me,"  said 
the  knight,  "  if  I  may  do  nothing  to  serve  thee  ?  "  "  I 
follow  thee,"  she  answered  him,  "  because  thou  speak- 
est  the  truth,  and  because  thou  art  not  true."  "  If 
thou  speakest  the  truth,  in  a  mystery  speakest  thou 
it,"  said  he.  "Wherefore  then  ridest  thou  about  the 
world  ? "  she  asked.  And  he  replied,  "  Verily,  to 
succour  them  that  are  oppressed,  for  I  have  no  mis- 
tress to  whom  I  may  do  honour."  "  Nay,  sir  knight, 
said  she,  "  but  to  get  thee  a  name  and  great  glory, 
thou  ridest  about  the  world.  Verily  thou  art  a  man 
who  loveth  not  the  truth."  At  these  words  of  the 
woman  the  knight  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
would  have  ridden  from  her,  for  he  loved  not  to  be 
reviled,  and  so  he  told  her.     But  she  followed  him, 


394  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

and  kept  by  his  stirrup,  and  said  to  him  as  she  ran, 
"  Yea,  thine  own  heart  whispereth  unto  thee  that  I 
speak  but  the  truth.  It  is  from  thyself  thou  wouldst 
flee."  Then  did  the  knight  hsten,  and,  lo !  his  own 
heart  was  telling  him  that  what  the  woman  said  was 
indeed  so.  Then  drew  he  the  reins  of  his  bridle, 
and  looked  down  upon  the  woman  and  said  to  her, 
"  Verily  thou  hast  well  spoken,  but  if  I  be  not  true, 
yet  would  I  be  true.  Come  with  me.  I  will  take 
thee  upon  my  horse  behind  me,  and  together  we  will 
ride  through  the  world;  thou  shalt  speak  to  me  the 
truth,  and  I  will  hear  thee,  and  with  my  sword  will 
plead  what  cause  thou  hast  against  any ;  so  shall  it 
go  well  with  thee  and  me,  for  fain  would  I  not  only 
love  what  is  truly  spoken,  but  be  in  myself  the  true 
thing."  Then  reached  he  down  his  hand,  and  she 
put  her  hand  in  his  hand,  and  her  foot  upon  his  foot, 
and  so  sprang  lightly  up  behind  him,  and  they  rode 
on  together.  And  as  they  rode,  he  said  unto  her, 
"  Verily  thou  art  the  first  woman  I  have  found  who 
hath  to  me  spoken  the  truth,  as  I  to  others.  Only 
thy  truth  is  better  than  mine.  Truly  thou  must  love 
the  truth  better  than  I ! "  But  she  returned  him  no 
answer.  Then  said  he  to  her  again,  "  Dost  thou  not 
love  the  truth  ?  "  And  again  she  gave  him  no  answer, 
whereat  he  marvelled  greatly.  Then  said  he  unto 
her  yet  again,  "  Surely  it  may  not  be  thou  art  one  of 
those  who  speak  the  truth  out  of  envy  and  ill-will, 
and  on  their  own  part  love  not  to  hear  it  spoken,  but 
are  as  the  rest  of  the  children  of  vanity!  Woman, 
lovest  thou  the  truth,  nor  only  to  speak  it  when  it  is 
sharp  ? "     "  If  I  love  not  the  truth,"  she  answered, 


THE   STORY   OF    THE    KNIGHT.  395 

"  yet  love  I  them  that  love  it.  But  tell  me  now,  sir 
knight,  what  thinkest  thou  of  me  ?  "  "  Nay,"  an- 
swered the  knight,  "that  is  what  even  now  I  would 
fain  have  known  from  thyself,  namely  what  to  think 
of  thee."  "  Then  will  I  now  try  thee,"  said  she, 
"  whether  indeed  thou  speakest  the  truth  or  no.  — 
Tell  me  to  my  face,  for  I  am  a  woman,  what  thou 
thinkest  of  that  face."  Then  said  the  knight  to  him- 
self, "  Never  surely  would  I,  for  the  love  of  pity,  of 
my  own  will  say  to  a  woman  she  was  evil-favoured. 
But  if  she  will  have  it,  then  must  she  hear  the  truth." 
"  Nay,  nay  !  "  said  the  woman,  "  but  thou  wilt  not 
speak  the  truth."  "  Yea,  but  I  will,"  answered  he. 
"  Then  I  ask  thee  again,"  she  said,  ''  what  thinkest 
thou  of  me  ? "  And  the  knight  replied,  "  Truly  I 
think  not  of  thee  as  of  one  of  the  v^ell-favoured  among 
women."  "  Dost  thou  then  think,"  said  she,  and 
her  voice  was  full  of  anger,  which  yet  it  seemed  as 
she  would  hide,  "  that  I  am  not  pleasant  to  look 
upon.?  Verily  no  man  hath  yet  said  so  unto  me, 
though  many  have  turned  away  from  me,  because  I 
spoke  unto  them  the  truth ! "  "  Now  surely  thou  sayest 
the  thing  tnat  is  not  so ! "  said  the  knight,  for  he  was 
grieved  to  think  she  should  speak  the  truth  but  of 
contention,  and  not  of  love  to  the  same,  inasmuch  as 
she  also  did  seek  that  men  should  praise  her. 
"  Truly  T  say  that  which  is  so,"  she  answered.  Then 
was  the  knight  angered,  and  spake  to  her  roughly, 
and  said  unto  her,  "  Therefore,  woman,  will  I  tell 
thee  that  which  thou  demandest  of  me  :  Verily  I 
think  of  thee  as  one,  to  my  thinking,  the  worst 
favoured,    and  least   to   be   desired   among  women 


396  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

whom  I  have  yet  looked  upon ;  nor  do  I  desire  ever 
to  look  upon  thee  again."  Then  laughed  she  aloud, 
and  said  to  him,  "  Nay,  but  did  I  not  tell  thee  thou 
didst  not  dare  speak  the  thing  to  my  face  ?  for  now 
thou  sayest  it  not  to  my  face,  but  behind  thine  own 
back  !  "  And  in  wrath  the  knight  turned  him  in  his 
Saddle,  crying,  "I  tell  thee,  to  thy  ill-shaped  and 
worse-hued  countenance,  that — "  and  there  ceased, 
and  spake  not,  but  with  open  mouth  sat  silent.  For 
behind  him  he  saw  a  woman  the  glory  of  her  kind, 
more  beautiful  than  man  ever  hoped  to  see  out  of 
heaven.  "I  told  thee,"  she  said,  "thou  couldst  not 
say  the  thing  to  my  face  !  "  "  For  that  it  would  be 
the  greatest  lie  ever  in  this  world  uttered,"  answered 
the  knight,  "  seeing  that  verily  I  do  believe  thee  the 
loveliest  among  women,  God  be  praised  !  Neverthe- 
less will  I  not  go  with  thee  one  step  farther,  so  to 
peril  my  soul's  health,  except,  as  thou  thyself  hast 
taught  me  to  inquire,  thou  tell  me  thou  lovest  the 
truth  in  alt  ways,  in  great  ways  as  well  as  small." 
"This  much  will  I  tell  thee,"  she  answered,  "that  I 
love  thee  because  thou  lovest  the  truth.  If  I  say  not 
more,  it  is  that  it  seemeth  to  me  a  mortal  must  be 
humble  speaking  of  great  things.  Verily  the  truth  is 
mighty,  and  will  subdue  my  heart  unto  itself."  "  And 
wilt  thou  help  me  to  do  the  truth  ? "  asked  the  knight. 
"  So  the  great  truth  help  me  !  "  she  answered.  And 
they  rode  on  together,  and  parted  not  thereafter. 
Here  endeth  the  story  of  the  knight  that  spoke  the 
truth. 

Lady  Joan   ceased,  and  there  was  silence  in  the 
chamber,  she  looking  back  over  the  pages,  as  if  she 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    KNIGHT.  397 

had  not  quite  understood,  and  Cosmo,  who  had  un- 
derstood entirely,  watching  the  lovely,  dark,  anxious 
face.  He  saw  she  had  not  mastered  the  story,  but, 
which  was  next  best,  knew  she  had  not.  He  began 
therefore  to  search  her  difficulty,  or  rather  to  help  it 
to  take  shape,  and  thereon  followed  a  conversation 
neither  of  them  ever  forgDt  concerning  the  degrees 
of  truth  :  as  Cosmo  designated  them  —  the  truth  of 
fact,  the  truth  of  vital  relation,  and  the  truth  of 
action. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 


NEW     EXPERIENCE. 


Soon  Cosmo  began  to  recover  more  rapidly  —  as 
well  he  might,  he  told  Joan,  with  such  a  heavenly 
servant  to  wait  on  him  !  The  very  next  day  he  was 
up  almost  the  whole  of  it.  But  that  very  day  was 
Joan  less  with  him  than  hitherto,  and  therefrom  came 
not  so  often  and  stayed  a  shorter  time.  She  would 
bring  him  books  and  leave  them,  saying  he  did  not 
require  a  nurse  any  more  now  that  he  was  able  to 
feed  himself.  And  Cosmo,  to  his  trouble,  could  not 
help  thinking  sometimes  that  her  manner  towards  him 
was  also  a  little  changed.  What  could  have  come  be- 
tween them  he  asked  himself  twenty  times  a  day. 
Had  he  hurt  her  anyhow.?  Had  he  unconsciously 
put  on  the  schoolmaster  with  her?  Had  he  pre- 
sumed on  her  kindness  ?  With  such  questions  he 
plagued  himself,  but  found  to  them  no  answer.  At 
times  he  could  even  have  imagined  her  a  little  cross 
with  him,  but  that  never  lasted.  Yet  still  when  they 
met,  Joan  seemed  farther  off  than  when  they  parted 

398 


NEW    EXPERIENCE.  399 

the  day  before.  It  is  true  they  almost  always  seemed 
to  get  back  to  nearly  the  same  pface  before  they 
parted  again,  and  Cosmo  tried  to  persuade  himself 
that  any  change  there  might  be  was  only  the  result 
of  growing  familiarity ;  but  not  the  less  did  he  find 
himself  ever  again  mourning  over  something  that  was 
gone  —  a  delicate  colour  on  the  verge  of  the  meeting 
sky  and  sea  of  their  two  natures. 

But  how  differently  the  hours  went  when  she  was 
with  him,  and  when  he  lay  thinking  whether  she  was 
coming  !  His  heart  swelled  like  a  rose-bud  ready  to 
burst  into  a  flaming  flower  when  she  drew  near,  and 
folded  itself  together  when  she  went,  as  if  to  save  up 
all  its  perfume  and  strength  for  her  return  !  Every- 
thing he  read  that  pleased  him,  must  be  shared  with 
Joan — must  serve  as  an  atmosphere  of  thought  in 
which  to  draw  nigh  to  each  other.  Everything  beau- 
tiful he  saw  twice  —  with  his  own  eyes  namely,  and 
as  he  imagined  it  in  the  eyes  of  Joan  :  he  was  always 
trying  to  see  things  as  he  thought  she  would  see 
them.  Not  once  while  recovering  did  he  care  to 
read  a  thing  he  thought  she  would  not  enjoy  — 
though  ever3^thing  he  liked,  he  said  to  himself,  she 
must  enjoy  some  day. 

Soon  he 'made  a  discovery  concerning  himself  that 
troubled  him  greatly :  not  once  since  he  was  ill  had 
he  buried  himself  in  the  story  of  Jesus  !  not  once 
had  he  lost  himself  in  prayer  !  not  once  since  finding 
Joan  had  he  been  flooded  with  a  glory  as  from  the 
presence  of  the  living  One,  or  had  any  such  vision  of 
truth  as  used  every  now  and  then  to  fill  him  like  the 
wine  of  the  new  world  which  is  the  old  !     Lady  Joan 


400  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

saw  that  he  was  sad,  and  questioned  him.  But  even 
to  her  he  could  hot  open  his  mind  on  such  a  matter  : 
near  as  they  were,  they  had  not  yet  got  near  enough 
to  each  other  for  that. 

In  the  history,  which  is  the  growth,  of  the  individual 
man,  epochs  of  truth  and  moods  of  being  follow 
in  succession,  the  one  for  the  moment  displac- 
ing the  other,  until  the  mind  shall  at  length  have 
gained  power  to  blend  the  new  at  once  with  the  pre- 
ceding whole.  But  this  can  never  be  until  our  idea 
of  the  Absolute  Life  is  large  enough  and  intense 
enough  to  fill  and  fit  into  every  necessity  of  our 
nature.  A  new  mood  is  as  a  dry  well  for  the  water 
of  life  to  fill.  The  man  who  does  not  yet  understand 
God  as  the  very  power  of  his  conscious  as  well  as  un- 
conscious being,  as  more  in  him  than  intensest  con- 
sciousness of  bliss  or  of  pain,  must  have  many  a 
treeless  expanse,  many  a  mirage-haunted  desert,  many 
an  empty  cistern  and  dried  up  river,  in  the  world  of 
his  being  !  There  was  not  much  of  this  kind  of  waste 
in  Cosmo's  world,  but  God  was  not  yet  inside  his 
growing  love  to  Joan  —  that  is,  consciously  to  him  — 
and  his  spirit  was  therefore  of  necessity  troubled. 
Was  it  not  a  dreadful  thing,  he  thought  with  himself, 
and  was  right  in  so  thinking,  that  love  to  any  lovely 
thing  —  how  much  more  to  the  loveliest  being  God 
had  made  !  —  whose  will  is  the  soul  of  all  loveliness, 
should  cause  him,  in  any  degree,  or  for  any  time,  to 
forget  him  and  grow  strange  to  the  thought  of  him  ? 
The  lack  was  this,  that,  having  found  his  treasure, 
he  had  not  yet  taken  it  home  to  his  Father !  Jesus, 
himself,  after  he  was  up  again,  could  not   be   alto- 


NEW    EXPERIENCE.  4OI 

gether  at  home  with  his  own,  until  he  had  first  been 
home  to  his  Father  and  their  Father,  to  his  God  and 
their  God.  For  as  God  is  the  source,  so  is  he  the 
bond  of  all  love.  There  are  Christians  who  in 
portions  of  their  being,  of  their  life,  their  judgments, 
and  aims,  are  absolute  heathens,  for  with  these,  so  far 
as  their  thought  or  will  is  concerned,  God  has  nothing 
to  do.  There  God  is  not  with  them,  for  there  they 
are  not  with  God.  Do  they  heed  St.  Paul  when  he 
says,  '*  Whatsoever  is  not  of  faith  is  sin  "  ? 

So,  between  these  two,  an  unrest  had  come  in,  and 
they  were  no  more  sure  of  ease  in  each  other's 
presence,  although  sometimes,  for  many  minutes 
together,  thought  and  word  would  go  well  between 
them,  and  all  would  be  as  simple  and  shining  as  ever. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

CHARLES  JERMYN,  M.  D. 

The  only  house  in  the  neighbouring  village  where 
Lady  Joan  sometimes  visited,  was,  as  the  gardener 
had  told  Cosmo,  that  of  the  doctor,  with  whose 
daughter  she  had  for  some  years,  if  not  cultivated, 
yet  admitted  a  sort  of  friendship.  Their  relation 
however  would  certainly  have  been  nothing  such,  so 
different  were  the  two,  had  it  not  been  that  Joan  had 
no  other  acquaintance  of  her  own  age,  and  that  Miss 
Jermyn  had  reasons  for  laying  herself  out  to  please 
her — the  principal  of  which  was  that  her  brother,  a 
man  about  thirty,  had  a  great  admiration  for  Lady 
Joan,  and  to  please  him  his  sister  would  do  almost 
anything.  Their  father  also  favoured  his  son's  am- 
bition, for  he  hated  the  earl,  and  would  be  glad  of 
his  annoyance,  while  he  liked  Lady  Joan,  and  was 
far  from  blind  to  the  consequence  his  family  would 
gain  by  such  an  alliance.  But  he  had  no  great  hope, 
for  experience,  of  which  few  have  more  than  a  coun- 
try doctor,  had  taught  him  that,  in  every  probability, 
402 


CHARLES   JERMYN,    M.    D.  403 

his  son's  first  advance  would  be  for  Lady  Joan  the 
signal  to  retire  within  the  palisades  of  her  rank  ;  for 
there  are  who  will  show  any  amount  of  familiarity 
and  friendliness  with  agreeable  inferiors  up  to  the 
moment  when  the  least  desire  of  ,a  nearer  approach 
manifests  itself :  that  moment  the  old  Adam,  or  per- 
haps rather  the  old  Satan,  is  up  in  full  pride  like  a 
spiritual  turkey-cock,  with  swollen  neck,  roused  fea- 
thers, and  hideous  gabble.  His  experience  however 
did  not  bring  to  his  mind  in  the  company  of  this  re- 
flection the  fact  that  such  a  reception  was  precisely 
that  which  he  had  himself  given  to  a  prayer  for  the 
hand  of  his  daughter  from  one  whom  he  counted  her 
social  inferior.  But  the  younger  man,  who  also  had  had 
his  experiences,  reflected  that  the  utter  isolation  of 
Lady  Joan,  through  the  ill  odour  of  her  family,  the 
disgraceful  character  of  her  father,  the  unamiability 
of  her  brother,  and  the  poverty  into  which  they  had 
sunk,  gave  him  incalculable  advantages. 

The  father  had  been  for  many  years  the  medical 
adviser  of  the  house ;  and  although  Lord  Mergwain 
accorded  the  medical  practice  of  his  day  about  the 
same  relation  to  a  science  of  therapeutics  that  old 
alchemy  had  to  modern  chemistry,  yet  the  moment 
he  felt  ill,  he  was  sure  to  send  for  young  Jermyn. 
Charles  had  also  attended  Lady  Joan  in  several  ill- 
nesses, for  she  had  not  continued  in  such  health  as 
when  she  used  to  climb  hills  in  snow  with  Cosmo. 
It  is  true  she  had  on  these  occasions  sent  for  the 
father,  but  for  one  reason  and  another,  more  likely  to 
be  false  than  true,  he  had  always,  with  many  apolo- 
gies, sent   his    son   in  his  stead.     She  was    at   first 


404  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

annoyed,  and  all  but  refused  to  receive  him;  but 
from  dislike  of  seeming  to  care,  she  got  used  to  his 
attendance,  and  to  him  as  well.  He  gained  thus  the 
opportunity  of  tolerably  free  admission  to  her,  of 
which  he  made  use  with  what  additional  confidence 
came  of  believing  that  at  least  he  had  no  rival. 

Nor  indeed  was  there  anything  absurd  in  his 
aspiring  in  those  her  circumstances  to  win  her.  He 
was  a  man  of  good  breeding,  and  more  than  agreea- 
ble manners  —  with  a  large  topographical  experience, 
and  a  social  experience  far  from  restricted,  for,  as  I 
have  already  mentioned,  he  had  travelled  much,  and 
in  the  company  of  persons  of  high  position  ;  and  had 
Joan  been  less  ignorant  of  things  belonging  to  her 
proper  station,  she  would  have  found  yet  more  to 
interest  her  in  him.  But  being  a  man  of  some  in- 
sight, and  possessed  also  of  considerable  versatility, 
so  that,  readily  discovering  any  perculiarity,  he  was 
equally  ready  to  meet  it,  he  laid  himself  out  to  talk 
to  her  of  the  things,  and  in  the  ways,  which  he 
thought  she  would  like.  To  discover,  however,  is 
not  to  understand.  No  longer  young  enough,  as  he 
said  to  himself,  to  be  greatly  interested  in  anything 
but  getting  on,  he  could  yet,  among  the  contents  of 
the  old  property-room  in  his  brain,  easily  lay  his 
hands  on  many  things  to  help  him  in  the  part  he 
chose  as  the  fittest  to  represent  himself.  The  greater 
part  of  conventionally  honest  men  try  to  look  the 
thing  they  would  like  to  be  —  that  being  at  the  same 
time  the  way  they  would  like  others  to  see  them  ; 
others,  along  with  what  they  would  like  to  be,  act  that 
which  they  would  only  like  to  appear ;  the  downright 


CHARLES    JERMYN,    M.    D,  405 

rascal  cares  only  to  look  what  will  serve  his  purpose ; 
and  the  honest  man  thinks  only  of  being,  and  of 
being  to  his  fellows. 

But  even  had  Jermyn  only  taken  upon  him  to 
imagine  himself  in  love  with  a  woman  like  Lady 
Joan,  he  must  soon  have  become,  more  or  less,  actu- 
ally in  love  with  her.  This  did  not  however  destroy 
his  caution  ;  and  so  far  as  his  attentions  had  gone, 
they  were  pleasant  to  her ;  —  they  were  at  least  a 
break  in  the  ennui  of  her  daily  life,  helping  her  to 
reach  the  night  in  safety.  She  was  not  one  of  those 
who,  unable  to  make  alive  the  time,  must  kill  it  lest 
it  kill  them ;  but  neither  was  she  of  those  who  make 
their  time  so  living,  that  the  day  is  too  short  for  them. 
Hence  it  came  when  he  called,  that  by  and  by  she 
would  offer  him  tea,  and  when  he  went,  would  walk 
with  him  into  the  garden,  and  at  length  even  accom- 
pany him  as  far  as  the  lodge  on  his  way  home. 

Charles  Jermyn  was  a  tall,  well-made  man,  with  a 
clever  and  refined  face,  which,  if  not  much  feeling, 
expressed  great  intelligence.  By  the  ladies  of  the 
neighbourhood  he  was  much  admired,  by  some  of 
them  pronounced  very  manly  and  good-looking,  by 
others  declared  to  be  beautiful.  Certain  of  them  said 
he  was  much  too  handsome  for  a  doctor.  He  had  a 
jolly  air  with  him,  which  was  yet  far  from  unrefined, 
and  a  hearty  way  of  shaking  hands  which  gave  an 
impression  of  honesty ;  and  indeed  I  think  honesty 
would  have  been  comparatively  easy  to  him,  had  he 
set  himself  to  cultivate  it ;  but  he  had  never  given 
himself  trouble  about  anything  except  "getting  on." 
You  might  rely  on  his  word  if  he  gave  it  solemnly, 


4o6  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

but  not  otherwise.  Absolute  truth  he  would  have  felt 
a  hindrance  in  the  exercise  of  his  profession,  neither 
out  of  it  did  he  make  his  yea  yea,  and  his  nay  nay. 
His  oath  was  better  than  his  word,  and  that  is  a 
human  shame. 

Women,  even  more  than  men,  I  presume,  see  in 
any  one  who  interests  them,  not  so  much  what  is 
there,  as  a  reflection  of  what  they  construct  from  the 
hints  that  have  pleased  them.  Some  of  them  it  takes 
a  miserable  married  lifetime  to  undeceive  ;  for  some, 
not  even  that  will  serve ;  they  continue  to  see,  if  not 
an  angel,  yet  a  very  pardonable  mortal,  therefore 
altogether  loveable  man,  in  the  husband  in  whom 
everybody  else  sees  only  a  vile  rascal.  Whether 
sometimes  the  wife  or  the  world  be  nearer  the  truth, 
will  one  day  come  out :  the  wife  may  be  a  woman  of 
insight,  and  see  where  no  one  else  can. 

In  his  youth  the  doctor  had  read  a  good  deal  of 
poetry,  and  enjoyed  it  in  a  surface-sort  of  fashion : 
discovering  that  Lady  Joan  had  a  fine  taste  in  verse, 
he  made  use  of  his  acquaintance  there  ;  and  effected 
the  greater  impression,  that  one  without  experience 
is  always  ready  to  take  familiarity  as  indicative  of 
real  knowledge,  and  think  that  he,  for  instance,  who 
can  quote  largely,  must  have  vital  relation  with  the 
things  he  quotes.  But  it  had  never  entered  the  doc- 
tor's head  that  poetry  could  have  anything  to  do  with 
life  —  even  in  the  case  of  the  poet  himself  —  how 
much  less  in  that  of  his  admirer !  Never  once  had 
it  occurred  to  him  to  ask  how  he  could  be  such  a 
fool  as  enjoy  anything  false  —  beingless  save  in  the 
brain  of  the  poet  —  a  mere  lie  !     For  that  which  has 


CHARLES   JERMYN,    M.    D.  407 

nothing  to  do  with  life,  what  can  it  be  but  a  lie  ? 
Not  the  less  Jermyn  got  clown  book  after  book,  for 
many  a  day  un  dusted  on  his  shelves,  and  read  and 
re-read  many  a  passage  which  had  once  borne  him 
into  the  seventh  heaven  of  feeling,  suggesting  some- 
where a  better  world,  in  which  lovely  things  might  be 
had  without  too  much  trouble :  now  as  he  read,  he  was 
struck  with  a  mild  surprise  at  finding  how  much  had 
lost  even  the  appearance  of  the  admirable ;  how 
much  of  what  had  seemed  bitter,  he  could  thoroughly 
accept.  He  did  not  ask  whether  the  change  came  of 
a  truer  vision  or  a  sourer  judgment,  put  all  down  to 
the  experience  that  makes  a  man  wise,  none  to  a  loss 
within.  He  was  not  able  to  imagine  himself  in  any- 
thing less  than  he  had  been,  in  anything  less  than  he 
would  be.  Yet  poetry  was  to  him  now  the  mere  muni- 
tion of  war  !  mere  feathers  for  the  darts  of  Cupid  !  — 
that  was  how  the  once  poetic  man  to  himself  expressed 
himself !  He  was  laying  in  store  of  weapons,  he 
said  !  For  when  a  man  will  use  things  in  which  he 
does  not  believe,  he  cannot  fail  to  be  vulgar.  But 
Lady  Joan  saw  no  vulgarity  in  the  result  —  it  was  hid 
in  the  man  himself.  To  her  he  seemed  a  profound 
lover  of  poetry,  who  knew  much  of  which  she  had 
never  even  heard.  Once  he  contrived  to  spend  a 
whole  afternoon  with  her  in  the  library,  for  of  the 
outsides  of  books,  their  title-pages,  that  is,  he  had  a 
^od  deal  of  knowledge,  and  must  make  opportunity 
to  show  it.  One  of  his  patients,  with  whom  he  first 
travelled,  then  for  a  time  resided,  was  a  book-collec- 
tor, and  with  him  he  learned  much,  chiefly  from  old- 
book-catalogues.      With    Lady   Joan    this   learning, 


4o8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

judiciously  poured  out,  passed  for  a  marvellous 
knowledge  of  books,  and  the  country  doctor  began 
to  assume  in  her  eyes  the  proportions  of  a  man  of 
universal  culture.  He  knew  at  least  how  to  bring  all 
he  had  into  use,  and  succeeded  in  becoming  some- 
thing in  the  sweet  lonely  life,  so  ignorant  and  un- 
supported. He  could  play  the  violin  too,  and  that 
with  no  mean  expression  —  believing  only  in  the  ex- 
pression, nowise  in  the  feeling  expressed  :  this  ac- 
complishment also  he  contrived  she  should,  as  if  by 
accident,  become  acquainted  with. 

In  the  judgment  of  most  who  knew  him,  he  was  an 
excellent  and  indeed  admirable  man.  "  No  nonsense 
about  him,  don't  you  know?  —  able  to  make  himself 
agreeable,  but  not  losing  sight  of  the  main  chance 
cither!"  men  would  say;  and  "A  thorough  family- 
doctor,  knowing  how  to  humour  patients  out  of  their 
fancies  !  "  would  certain  mammas  add,  who,  instead  of 
being  straight-forward  with  their  children,  were 
always  scheming,  and  dodging,  and  holding  private 
confabulations  about  them  with  doctor  and  clergyman. 

In  that  part  of  his  professional  duty  which  bordered 
on  that  of  the  nurse,  the  best  that  was  in  Jermyn 
came  out.  Few  men  could  handle  a  patient  at  the 
same  time  so  firmly  and  tenderly  as  he ;  few  were  less 
sparing  of  self  in  the  endeavour  to  make  him  com- 
fortable. And  from  the  moment  when  the  simple- 
minded  Cosmo  became  aware  of  his  attendance  and 
ministration,  his  heart  went  out  to  him  —  from  tlie 
moment,  that  is,  when,  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same 
day  on  which  Joan  transformed  his  chamber,  he  lifted 
him  in  his  arms  that  the  gardener  and  his  wife  might 


CHARLES   JERMYN,    M.    D.  409 

place  a  feather-bed  and  mattress  under  him,  oblitera- 
ting in  softness  the  something  which  had  seemed  to 
find  out  every  bone  in  his  body :  as  soon  as  he  was 
laid  down  again,  his  spirit  seemed  to  rise  on  clouds 
of  ease  to  thank  his  minister.  And  Cosmo  was  one 
in  whom  the  gratitude  was  as  enduring  as  ready. 
Next  to  the  appearance  of  Lady  Joan,  all  the  time  he 
was  recovering,  he  looked  for  the  daily  visit  of  the 
doctor.  Nor  did  the  doctor  ever  come  without  re- 
ceiving his  reward  in  an  interview  with  the  lady. 
And  herein  Jermyn  gained  another  advantage.  For 
Joan  found  herself  compelled  to  take  him  into  her 
confidence  concerning  her  brother's  ignorance  of 
the  presence  of  Cosmo  in  the  house ;  and  so  he 
shared  a  secret  with  her.  He  did  not,  of  course,  al- 
together relish  the  idea  of  this  Scotch  cousin,  but 
plainly  he  was  too  young  for  Joan,  and  he  would  soon 
find  out  whether  there  was  any  need  to  beware  of 
him,  by  which  time  he  would  know  also  what  to  do 
with  him,  should  action  be  necessary. 

For  the  first  week  or  so  Joan  did  not  mind  how 
often  the  doctor  found  her  with  Cosmo,  but  after  that 
she  began  to  dislike  it,  she  could  scarcely  have  told 
why,  and  managed  to  be  elsewhere  when  he  came. 
After  the  third  time  the  doctor  began  to  cherish 
suspicion,  and  called  cunning  to  his  aid.  Having 
mentioned  an  hour  at  which  he  would  call  the  next 
day,  he  made  his  appearance  an  hour  earlier,  and 
with  an  excuse  on  his  lips  for  the  change  he  had  been 
"  compelled  to  make,"  walked  into  the  room  without 
warning,  as  of  course  he  might  without  offence, 
where  his  patient  was  a  young  man.     There,  as  ha 


41 0  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

had  feared,  he  found  Lady  Joan.  But  she  had  heard  or 
felt  his  coming,  and  as  he  entered  she  was  handing 
Cosmo  the  newspaper,  with  the  words, 

"  There  !  you  are  quite  able  to  read  to  yourself  to- 
day. I  will  go  and  have  another  search  for  the  book 
you  wanted ; "  and  with  that  she  turned,  and  gave  a 
little  start,  for  there  stood  the  doctor ! 

"  Oh,  Doctor  Jermyn  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  did  not 
know  you  were  there  !  "  and  held  out  her  hand.  "  Our 
patient  is  going  on  wonderfully  now.  You  will  let 
me  see  you  before  you  leave  the  castle  ?  " 

Therewith  she  left  the  room,  and  hastening  to  her 
own,  saw  in  the  mirror  the  red  of  a  lie,  said  to  her- 
self, "  What  will  Cosmo  think  ?  "  and  burst  into  tears 
—  the  first  she  had  shed  since  the  day  she  found  him. 

The  doctor  was  not  taken  in,  but  Cosmo  was  troub- 
led and  puzzled.  In  Jermyn's  talk,  however,  and  his 
own  simplicity,  he  soon  forgot  the  strangeness  of  this 
her  behaviour. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


COSMO    AND   THE    DOCTOR. 


To  the  eyes  of  Jermyn,  Cosmo  appeared,  mainly 
from  his  simplicity,  younger  than  he  was,  while  the 
doctor's  manners,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  world, 
made  Cosmo  regard  him  as  a  much  greater  man 
than,  in  any  sense  or  direction,  he  really  was.  His 
kindness  having  gained  the  youth's  heart,  he  was 
ready  to  see  in  him  everything  that  love  would  see  in 
the  loved. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me.  Doctor  Jermyn,"  he 
said,  one  day,  "  —  so  good,  that  I  am  the  more  sorry 
though  the  less  unwilling  —  " — The  doctor  could  not 
keep  his  hold  of  the  thread  of  Cosmo's  speach,  yet 
did  not  interrupt  him  — "  to  tell  you  what  is  now 
weighing  on  my  mind  :  I  do  not  know  how  or  when  I 
shall  be  able  to  hand  you  your  fees.  I  hope  you  will 
not  come  to  see  me  once  more  than  is  necessary ; 
and  the  first  money  I  earn,  you  shall  be  paid  part  at 
least  of  what  I  owe  you." 

The  doctor  laughed.  It  was  such  a  school-boy 
411 


412  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


speech,  he  thought !  It  was  a  genuine  relief  to  Cos- 
mo to  find  him  take  the  thing  so  lightly. 

"You  were  robbed  on  the  way,  Lady  Joan  tells 
me,"  Jermyn  said. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  was  robbed,"  returned  Cos- 
mo;  "but  in  any  case,  even  had  I  brought  every 
penny  I  started  with,  I  could  not  have  paid  you.  My 
father  and  I  are  very  poor,  Mr.  Jermyn." 

"And  my  father  and  I  are  pretty  well  to  do,"  said 
the  doctor,  laughing  again. 

"But,"  resumed  Cosmo,  "neither  condition  is  a 
reason  why  you  should  not  be  paid.  Mine  is  only 
the  cause  why  you  are  not  paid  at  once." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  doctor,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  boy's,  "  I  am  not  such  a  very  old  man  —  it  is 
not  so  very  long  since  I  was  a  student  myself  —  in 
your  country  too  —  at  Edinburgh  —  that  I  should 
forget  what  it  is  to  be  a  student,  or  how  often  money 
is  scarce  in  the  midst  of  every  other  kind  of  plenty 
and  refinement." 

"  But  I  am  not  exactly  a  student  now.  I  have 
been  making  a  little  money  as  tutor;  only  —  " 

"  Don't  trouble  your  head  about  it,  I  beg  of  you," 
interrupted  the  doctor.  "  It  is  the  merest  trifle.  Be- 
sides, I  should  never  have  thought  of  taking  a  fee 
from  you  !  I  am  well  paid  in  the  pleasure  of  making 
your  acquaintance.  —  But  there  is  one  way,"  he  ad- 
ded, "  in  which  you  could  make  me  a  return." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Cosmo  eagerly. 

"  To  borrow  a  little  money  of  me  for  a  few  months  ? 
I  am  not  at  all  hard  up  at  present.  I  had  to  borrow 
many  a  time  when  I  was  in  Edinburgh." 


COSMO   AND    THE    DOCTOR.  413 

The  boy-heart  of  Cosmo  swelled  in  his  bosom,  and 
for  a  time  he  could  not  answer.  He  thought  with 
himself,  "  Here  is  a  man  of  the  true  sort !  —  a  man 
after  my  father's  own  heart !  who  in  the  ground  of  his 
rights  plants  fresh  favours,  and  knows  the  inside  of 
a  fellow's  soul  as  well  as  his  body  !  This  is  a  rare 
man  ! " 

But  he  felt  it  would  be  to  do  Joan  a  wrong  to  bor- 
row money  from  the  doctor  and  not  from  her.  So 
with  every  possible  acknowledgment  he  declined  the 
generous  oifer.  Now  the  doctor  was  quite  simple  ii> 
behaving  thus  to  Cosmo.  He  was  a  friendly  man  and 
a  gentleman,  and  liked  Cosmo  as  no  respectable  soul 
could  help  liking  him.  It  had  not  yet  entered  into 
him  to  make  him  useful.  That  same  night,  however, 
he  began  to  ask  himself  whether  he  might  not  make 
Cosmo  serve  instead  of  hindering  his  hope,  and  very 
soon  had  thought  the  matter  out.  He  was  by  no 
means  too  delicate  to  talk  at  once  about  his  love,  but 
would  say  nothing  of  it  until  he  had  made  more  sure 
of  Cosmo,  and  good  his  ground  by  sowing  another 
crop  first :  he  must  make  himself  something  in  the 
eyes  of  the  youth,  plant  himself  firmly  in  his  estima- 
tion, cause  his  idea  of  him  to  blossom ;  and  for  the 
sake  of  this  he  must  first  of  all  understand  the  boy ! 

Nor  was  it  long  before  the  doctor  imagined  he  did 
understand  the  boy ;  and  indeed,  sceptical  as  both 
his  knowledge  of  himself  and  of  the  world  had  made 
him,  he  did  so  far  understand  him  as  to  believe  him 
as  innocent  of  evil  as  the  day  he  was  born.  His  eyes 
could  not  shine  so,  his  mouth  could  not  have  that 
childlike  —  the    doctor    called    it    childish  —  smile 


414         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

otherwise.  He  put  out  various  feelers  to  satisfy  him- 
self there  was  no  pretence,  and  found  his  allusions 
either  passed  over  him  like  a  breath  of  merest  air,  or 
actually  puzzled  him.  It  was  not  always  that  Cosmo 
did  not  know  what  the  suggestion  might  mean,  but 
that  he  could  not  believe  Jermyn  meant  that ;  and 
perceiving  this,  the  doctor  would  make  haste  to  alter 
the  shadow  into  something  definitely  unobjectionable. 
Jermyn  had  no  design  of  corrupting  the  youth ;  he 
was  above  that,  even  could  he  have  fancied  anything 
to  be  gained  by  it,  whereas  his  interest  lay  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  his  object  being  to  use  the  lad  un- 
consciously to  himself.  He  discovered  also  concern- 
ing him  that  he  had  lofty  ideas  of  duty  in  everything ; 
that  he  was  very  trusting,  and  unready  to  doubt ;  and 
that  with  him  poetry  was  not,  as  with  Lady  Joan,  a 
delight,  but  an  absolute  passion.  -After  such  discov- 
eries, he  judged  it  would  not  be  hard  to  make  for 
himself,  as  for  an  idol,  a  high  place  in  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  boy.  For  this  end  he  brought  to  bear 
upon  him  his  choicest  fragments  of  knowledge,  and 
all  his  power  to  interest ;  displayed  in  pleasing  har- 
monies his  acquaintance  with  not  a  few  of  the  more 
delicate  phases  of  humanity,  and  his  familiarity  with 
the  world  of  imagination  as  embodied  in  books ; 
professed  much  admiration  he  did  not  feel,  in  the 
line  of  Cosmo's  admiration,  going  into  raptures,  for 
instance,  over  Milton's  profoundest  gems,  whose 
beauty  he  felt  only  in  a  kind  of  reflected  cold-moony 
way,  through  the  external  perfection  of  their  colour 
and  carving ;  brought  to  his  notice  Wordsworth's 
Happy    Warrior^  of   which  he  professed,  and  truly, 


COSMO    AND   THE    DOCTOR,  415 

that  he  had  pasted  it  on  his  wall  when  a  student, 
that  at  any  moment  he  might  read  it ;  and  introduced 
him  to  the  best  poems  of  Shelley,  a  favour  for  which 
alone  Cosmo  felt  as  if  he  must  serve  him  for  life. 

Cosmo  was  so  entire,  so  utterly  honest,  so  like  a 
woman,  that  he  could  not  but  regard  the  channel 
through  which  anything  reached  him,  as  of  the  nature 
of  that  which  came  to  him  through  it ;  how  could  that 
serve  to  transmit  which  was  not  one  in  spirit  with  the 
thing  transmitted?  To  his  eyes,  therefore,  Jermyn 
sat  in  the  reflex  glory  of  Shelley,  and  of  every  other 
radiant  spirit  of  which  he  had  widened  his  knowledge. 
How  could  Cosmo  for  instance  regard  him  as  a 
common  man  through  whom  came  to  him  first  that 
thrilling  trumpet-cry,  full  of  the  glorious  despair  of  a 
frustrate  divinity,  beginning, 

O  wild  west  wind,  thou  breath  of  autumn's  being, 

—  the  grandest  of  all  pagan  pantheistic  utterances  he 
was  ever  likely  to  hear !  The  whole  night,  and  many 
a  night  after,  was  Cosmo  haunted  with  the  solian 
music  of  its  passionate,  self-pitiful  self-abandonment. 
And  in  his  dreams,  the  "be  thou  me,  impetuous  one  ! " 
of  the  poem,  seemed  fulfilled  in  himself  —  for  he  and 
the  wind  were  one,  careering  wildly  along  the  sky, 
combing  out  to  their  length  the  maned  locks  of  the 
approaching  storm,  and  answering  the  cry  of  weary 
poets  everywhere  over  the  world. 

As  he  sat  by  his  patient's  bed,  Jermyn  would  also 
tell  him  about  his  travels,  and  relate  passages  of  ad- 
venture in  various  parts  of  the  world ;  and  he  came 


41 6  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

oftener,  and  staid  longer,  and  talked  more  and  more 
freely,  until  at  length  in  Cosmo's  vision,  the  more 
impressible  perhaps  from  his  weakness,  the  doctor 
seemed  a  hero,  an  admirable  Crichton ;  a  paragon  of 
doctors. 

In  all  this,  Jermyn,  to  use  his  own  dignified  imagery, 
was  preparing  an  engine  of  assault  against  the  heart 
of  the  lady.  He  had  no  very  delicate  feeling  of  the 
relation  of  man  and  woman,  neither  any  revulsion 
from  the  loverly  custom  in  low  plays  of  making  a 
friend  of  the  lady's  maid,  and  bribing  her  to  chaunt 
the  praises  of  the  briber  in  the  ears  of  her  mistress. 
In  his  intercourse  with  Lady  Joan,  something  seemed 
always  to  interfere  and  prevent  him  from  showing 
himself  to  the  best  advantage  —  which  he  never 
doubted  to  be  tlie  truest  presentation ;  but  if  he 
could  send  her  a  reflection  of  him  in  the  mind  of 
such  an  admirer  as  he  was  making  of  Cosmo,  she 
would  then  see  him  more  as  he  desired  to  be  seen, 
and  as  he  did  not  doubt  he  was. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


THE   NAIAD. 


At  length  Cosmo  was  able  to  go  out,  and  Joan  did 
not  let  him  go  by  himself.  For  several  days  he 
walked  only  a  very  little,  but  sat  a  good  deal  in  the 
sun,  and  rapidly  recovered  strength.  At  last,  one 
glorious  morning  of  summer,  they  went  out  together, 
intending  to  have  a  real  little  walk. 

Lady  Joan  had  first  made  sure  that  her  brother  was 
occupied  in  his  laboratory,  but  still  she, dared  not 
lead  her  patient  to  any  part  of  the  garden  or  grounds 
ever  visited  by  him.  She  took  him,  therefore,  through 
walks,  some  of  them  wide,  and  bordered  with  stately 
trees,  but  all  grown  with  weeds  and  moss,  to  the  de- 
serted portion  with  which  he  had  already  made  a 
passing  acquaintance.  There  all  lay  careless  of  the 
present,  hopeless  of  the  future,  and  hardly  dreaming 
of  the  past.  It  was  long  since  foot  of  lady  had 
pressed  these  ancient  paths,  long  since  laugh  or  merry 
speech  had  been  heard  in  them.  Nothing  is  lovelier 
than  the  result  of  the  half-neglect  which  often  falls 
417 


41 8         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

upon  portions  of  great  grounds,  when  the  owner's 
fancy  has  changed,  and  his  care  has  turned  to  some 
newer  and  more  favoured  spot;  when  there  is  moss 
on  the  walks,  but  the  weeds  are  few  and  fine;  when 
the  trees  stand  in  their  old  honour,  yet  no  branch  is 
permitted  to  obstruct  a  path;  when  flowers  have 
ceased  to  be  sown  or  planted,  but  those  that  bloom 
are  not  disregarded;  while  yet  it  is  only  through 
some  stately  door  that  admission  is  gained,  and  no 
chance  foot  is  free  to  stray  in.  But  here  it  was  alto- 
gether diiferent.  That  stage  of  neglect  .was  long 
past.  The  place  was  ragged,  dirty,  overgrown. 
There  was  between  the  picture  I  have  drawn  and  this 
reality,  all  the  painful  difference  between  stately  and 
beautiful  matronhood,  and  the  old  age  that,  no  longer 
capable  of  ministering  to  its  own  decencies,  has 
grown  careless  of  them. 

"At  this  time  of  the  day  there  is  plenty  of  sun 
here,"  said  his  nurse,  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to  savour 
of  apology. 

"  I  think,"  said  Cosmo,  "  the  gardener  told  me 
some  parts  of  the  grounds  were  better  kept  than 
this." 

"Yes,"  answered  Joan,  "but  none  of  them  are 
anything  like  what  they  should  be.  My  brother  is  so 
poor." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  poor," 
said  Cosmo. 

"  Oh,  don't  I ! "  returned  Joan  with  a  sigh.  "  You 
see  Constantine  requires  for  his  experiments  all  the 
little  money  the  trustees  allow." 

"  I  know  this  part,"  said  Cosmo.      "  I  made  ac- 


THE    NAIAD.  42 1 


quaintance  with  it  the  last  thing  as  I  was  growing  ill. 
It  looks  to  me  so  melancholy !  If  I  were  here,  I 
should  never  rest  till  I  had  with  my  own  hands  got  it 
into  some  sort  of  order." 

*'  Are  you  as  strong  as  you  used  to  be,  Cosmo  —  I 
mean  when  you  are  well .? "  asked  Joan,  willing  to 
change  the  direction  of  the  conversation. 

"  A  good  deal  stronger,  I  hope,"  answered  Cosmo. 
"  But  I  am  glad  it  is  not  just  this  moment,  for  then  I 
should  have  no  right  to  be  leaning  on  you,  Joan." 

"  Do  you  like  to  lean  on  me,  Cosmo  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  do ;  I  am  proud  of  it !  — But  tell  me 
why  you  don't  take  me  to  a  more  cheerful  part." 

She  made  him  no  answer.  'He  looked  in  her  face. 
It  was  very  pale,  and  tears  were  in  her  eyes. 

"  Must  I  tell  you,  Cosmo  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No,  certainly,  if  you  would  rather  not." 

"  But  you  might  think  it  something  wrong." 

"  I  should  never  imagine  you  doing  anything 
wrong,  Joan." 

"  Then  I  must  tell  you,  lest  it  should  be  wrong.  — 
My  brother  does  not  know  that  you  .are  here," 

Now  Cosmo  had  never  imagined  that  Lord  Mer- 
gwain  did  not  know  he  was  at  the  castle.  It  was 
true  he  had  not  come  to  see  him,  but  nothing  was 
simpler  if  Lord  Mergwain  desired  to  see  Cosmo  as  little 
as  Cosmo  desired,  from  his  recollection  of  him  at 
Castle  Warlock,  to  see  Lord  Mergwain.  It  almost 
took  from  him  what  little  breath  he  had  to  learn  that 
he  had  been  all  this  time  in  a  man's  house  without 
his  knowledge.  No  doubt,  in  good  sense  and  justice, 
the  house  was  Joan's  too,  however  little  the  male 


422  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

aristocracy  may  be  inclined  to  admit  such  a  state- 
ment of  rights,  but  there  must  be  some  one  at  the 
head  of  things,  and,  however  ill  he  might  occupy  it, 
that  place  was  naturally  his  lordship's,  and  he  had  at 
least  a  right  to  know  who  was  in  the  house.  Huge 
discomfort  thereupon  invaded  Cosmo,  and  a  restless 
desire  to  be  out  of  the  place.  His  silence  frightened 
Joan. 

"  Are  you  very  angry  with  me,  Cosmo,"  she  said. 

"  Angry !  No,  Joan  !  How  could  I  be  angry  with 
you?  Only  it  makes  me  feel  myself  where  I  have  no 
business  to  be  —  rather  like  a  thief  in  fact." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry !  But  what  could  I  do  ?  You 
don't  know  my  brother,  or  you  would  not  wonder. 
He  seems  to  have  a  kind  of  hatred  to  your  family !  — 
I  do  not  in  the  least  know  why.  Could  my  father 
have  said  anything  about  you  that  he  misunderstood  ? 

—  But  no,  that  could  not  be !  —  And  yet  my  father 
did  say  he  knew  your  house  many  years  before  ! " 

"  I  don't  care  how  Lord  Mergwain  regards  me," 
said  Cosmo ;  "  what  angers  me  is  that  he  should 
behave  so  to  you  that  you  dare  not  tell  him  a  thing. 
Now  I  am  sorry  I  came  without  writing  to  you  first ! 

—  I  don't  know  though !  —  and  I  can't  say  I  am 
sorry  I  was  taken  ill,  for  all  the  trouble  I  have  been 
to  you ;  I  should  never  have  known  otherwise  how 
beautiful  and  good  you  are." 

"I'm  not  good!  and  I'm  not  beautiful!"  cried 
Joan,  and  burst  into  tears  of  humiliation  and  sore- 
heartedness.  What  a  contrast  was  their  house  and 
its  hospitality,  she  thought,  to  those  in  which  Cosmo 
lived  one  heart  and  one  soul  with  his  father  I 


THE    NAIAD. 


423 


"  But,"  she  resumed  the  next  moment,  wiping  away 
her  tears,  "  you  must  not  think  I  have  no  right  to  do 
anything  for  you.  My  father  left  all  his  personal 
property  to  me,  and  I  know  there  was  money  in  his 
bureau,  saved  up  for  me  —  I  know  it ;  and  I  know 
too  that  my  brother  took  it !  I  said  never  a  word 
about  it  to  him  or  any  one  —  never  mentioned  the 
subject  before ;  but  I  can't  have  you  feeling  as  if  you 
had  been  taking  what  I  had  no  right  to  give  !  " 

They  had  come  to  the  dr}'  fountain,  with  its  great 
cracked  basin,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  the 
parched  naiad,  pouring  an  endless  nothing  from  her 
inverted  vase.  Forsaken  and  sad  she  looked.  All 
the  world  had  changed  save  her,  and  left  her  a  memo- 
•rial  of  former  thoughts,  vanished  ways,  and  forgotten 
things :  she,  alas  !  could  not  alter,  must  be  still  the 
same,  the  changeless  centre  of  change.  All  the  win- 
ters would  beat  upon  her,  all  the  summers  would,, 
burn  her  ;  but  never  more  would  the  glad  water  pour 
plashing  from  her  dusty  urn  !  never  more  would  the 
birds  make  showers  with  their  beating  wings  in  her 
cool  basin !  The  dead  leaves  would  keep  falling 
year  after  year  to  their  rest,  but  she  could  not  fall, 
must,  through  the  slow  ages,  stand,  until  storm  and 
sunshine  had  wasted  her  atom  by  atom  away. 

On  the  broad  rim  of  the  basin  they  sat  down. 
Cosmo  turned  towards  the  naiad,  such  thoughts  as  I 
have  written  throbbing  in  his  brain  like  the  electric 
light  in  an  exhausted  receiver,  Joan  with  her  back  to 
the  figure,  and  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  thinking 
Cosmo  brooded  vexed  on  his  newly  discovered  posi- 
tion.    It  was  a  sad  picture.     The  two  were  as  the 


424         WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

type  of  Nature  and  Art,  the  married  pair,  here  at 
strife  —  still  together,  but  only  the  more  apart  — 
Oberon  and  Titania,  with  ruin  all  about  them. 
Through  the  straggling  branches  appeared  the  totter- 
ing dial  of  Time  where  not  a  sun-ray  could  reach  it ; 
for  Time  himself  may  well  go  to  sleep  where  prog- 
ress is  but  disintegration.  Time  himself  is  nothing, 
does  nothing ;  he  is  but  the  medium  in  which  the 
forces  work.  Time  no  more  cures  our  ills,  than 
space  unites  our  souls,  because  they  cross  it  to 
mingle. 

Had  Cosmo  suspected  Joan's  thought,  he  would 
have  spoken ;  but  the  urn  of  the  naiad  had  brought 
back  to  him  his  young  thoughts  and  imaginations 
concerning  the  hidden  source  of  the  torrent  that 
rushed  for  ever  along  the  base  of  Castle  Warlock: 
the  dry  urn  was  to  him  the  end  of  all  life  that  knows 
^not  its  source  —  therefore,  when  the  water  of  its  con- 
sciousness fails,  cannot  go  back  to  the  changeless, 
ever  renewing  life,  and  unite  itself  afresh  with  the 
self-existent,  parent  spring.  A  moment  more  and  he 
began  to  tell  Joan  what  he  was  thinking  —  gave  her 
the  whole  metaphysical  history  of  the  development  in 
him  of  the  idea  of  life  in  connection  with  the  torrent 
and  its  origin  ever  receding,  like  a  decoy-hope  that 
entices  us  to  the  truth,  until  at  length  he  saw  in  God 
the  one  only  origin,  the  fountain  of  fountains,  the 
Father  of  all  lights  —  that  is,  of  all  things,  and  all 
true  thoughts. 

"  If  there  were  such  an  urn  as  that,"  he  said,  point- 
ing to  the  naiad's,  "  ever  renewing  the  water  inside 
it  without  pipe  or  spring,  there  would  be  what  we  call 


THE    NAIAD.  425 


a  miracle,  because,  unable  to  follow  the  appearance 
farther  back,  we  should  cease  thought,  and  wonder 
only  in  the  presence  of  the  making  God.  And  such 
an  urn  would  be  a  true  picture  of  the  heart  of  God, 
ever  sending  forth  life  of  itself,  and  of  its  own  will, 
into  the  consciousness  of  us  receiving  the  same." 

He  grew  eloquent,  and  talked  as  even  Joan  had 
never  heard  him  before.  And  she  understood  him, 
for  the  lonely  desire  after  life  had  wrought,  making 
her  capable.  She  felt  more  than  ever  that  he  was  a 
messenger  to  her  from  a  higher  region,  that  he  had 
come  to  make  it  possible  for  h«r  to  live,  to  enlarge 
her  being,  that  it  might  no  more  be  but  the  half  life 
of  mere  desire  after  something  unknown  and  never  to 
be  attained. 

Suddenly,  with  that  inexplicable  breach  in  the 
chain  of  association  over  which  the  electric  thought 
seems  to  leap,  as  over  a  mighty  void  of  spiritual 
space,  Cosmo  remembered  that  he  had  not  yet  sent 
the  woman  whose  generous  trust  had  saved  him  from 
long  pangs  of  hunger,  the  price  of  her  loaf.  He 
turned  quickly  to  Joan  :  was  not  this  a  fresh  chance 
of  putting  trust  in  her  ?  What  so  precious  thing  be- 
tween two  lives  as  faith  ?  It  is  even  a  new  creation 
in  the  midst  of  the  old.  Would  he  not  be  wrong  to 
ask  it  from  another  ?  And  ask  it  he  must ;  for  there 
was  the  poor  woman,  on  whom  he  had  no  claim  of 
individual,  developed  friendship,  in  want  of  her 
money  !  Would  he  not  feel  that  Joan  wronged  him, 
if  she  asked  some  one  else  for  any  help  he  could  give 
her  ?  He  told  her  therefore  the  whole  story  of  his 
adventures  on  his  way  to  her,  and  ending  said, 


426  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Lend  me  a  half-sovereign  —  please  —  to  put  in  a 
letter  for  the  first  woman.  I  will  find  something  for- 
the  girl  afterwards." 

Joan  burst  into  tears.  It  was  some  time  before 
she  could  speak,  but  at  last  she  told  him  plainly  that 
she  had  no  money,  and  dared  not  ask  her  brother, 
because  he  would  want  to  know  first  what  she  meant 
to  do  with  it. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  cried  Cosmo.  "  Why,  my  father 
would  never  ask  me  what  I  wanted  a  little  money 
for  !  " 

"  And  you  would  l?e  sure  to  tell  him  without  his 
asking !  "  returned  Joan.  "  But  I  dare  not  tell  Con- 
stantine.  Last  week  I  could  have  asked  him,  be- 
cause then,  for  your  sake,  I  would  have  told  a  lie  ; 
but  I  dare  not  do  that  now." 

She  did  not  tell  him  she  gave  her  last  penny  to  a 
beggar  on  the  road  the  day  he  came,  or  that  she 
often  went  for  months  without  a  coin  in  her 
pocket. 

Cosmo  was  so  indignant  he  could  not  speak ; 
neither  must  he  give  shape  in  her  hearing  to  what  he 
thought  of  her  brother.  She  looked  anxiously  in  his 
face. 

"  Dear  Cosmo,"  she  said,  "  do  not  be  angry  with 
me.  I  will  borrow  the  money  from  the  housekeeper. 
I  have  never  done  such  a  thing,  but  for  your  sake  I 
will.     You  shall  send  it  tomorrow." 

"  No,  no,  dearest  Joan  !  "  cried  Cosmo.  "I  will 
not  hear  of  such  a  thing.  I  should  be  worse  than 
Lord  Mergwain  to  lay  a  feather  on  the  burden  he 
makes  you  carry." 


THE    NAIAD.  427 


"  I  shouldn't  mind  it  much.  It  would  be  sweet  to 
hurt  my  pride  for  your  sake." 

"  Joan,  if  you  do,"  said  Cosmo,  "  I  will  not  touch 
it.  Don't  trouble  your  dear  heart  about  it.  God  is 
taking  care  of  the  woman  as  well  as  of  us.  I  will 
send  it  afterwards." 

They  sat  silent  —  Cosmo  thinking  how  he  was  to 
escape  from  this  poverty-stricken  grandeur  to  his  own 
humble  heaven  —  as  poor,  no  doubt,  but  full  of  the 
dignity  lacking  here.  He  knew  the  state  of  things 
at  home  too  well  to  imagine  his  father  could  send 
him  the  sum  necessary  without  borrowing  it,  and  he 
knew  also  how  painful  that  would  be  to  him  who 
had  been  so  long  a  borrower  ever  struggling  to 
pay. 

Joan's  eyes  were  red  with  weeping  when  at  length 
she  looked  pitifully  in  his  face.  Like  a  child  he  put 
both  his  arms  about  her,  seeking  to  comfort  her. 
Sudden  as  a  flash  came  a  voice,  calling  her  name  in 
loud,  and  as  it  seemed  to  Cosmo,  angry  tones.  She 
turned  white  as  the  marble  on  which  they  sat,  and 
cast  a  look  of  agonized  terror  on  Cosmo. 

"  It  is  Constantine  !  "  said  her  lips,  but  hardly  her 
voice. 

The  blood  rushed  in  full  tide  from  Cosmo's  heart, 
as  it  had  not  for  many  a  day,  and  coloured  all  his 
thin  face.  He  drew  himself  up,  and  rose  with  the 
look  of  one  ready  for  love's  sake  to  meet  danger  joy- 
ously. But  Joan  threw  her  arms  round  him  now, 
and  held  him. 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  said ;  "  —  this  way  !    this  way  !  " 


428  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  letting  him  go,  darted  into  the  pathless  shrub- 
bery, sure  he  would  follow  her. 

Cosmo  hated  turning  his  back  on  any  person  or 
thing,  but  the  danger  here  was  to  Joan,  and  he  must 
do  as  pleased  her.     He  followed  instantly. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


THE    GARDEN-HOUSE. 


She  threaded  and  forced  her  way  swiftly  through 
the  thick-grown  shrubs,  regardless  of  thorns  and 
stripping  twigs.  It  was  a  wilderness  for  many  yards, 
but  suddenly  the  bushes  parted,  and  Cosmo  saw  be- 
fore him  a  neglected  building,  overgrown  with  ivy, 
of  which  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  tell  the 
purpose,  for  it  was  the  product  of  a  time  when 
everything  was  made  to  look  like  something  else. 
The  door  of  it,  thick  with  accumulated  green  paint, 
stood  half  open,  as  if  the  last  who  left  it  had  failed 
in  a  feeble  endeavour  to  shut  it.  Like  a  hunted 
creature  Joan  darted  in,  and  up  the  •creaking  stair 
before  her.  Cosmo  followed,  every  step  threatening 
to  give  way  under  him. 

The  place  was  two  degrees  nearer  ruin  than  his 
room.  Great  green  stains  were  on  the  walls  ;  plaster 
was  lying  here  and  there  in  a  heap ;  the  floors,  rotted 
everywhere  with  damp,  were  sinking  in  all  directions. 
Yet  there  had  been  no  wanton  destruction,  for  the 
429 


430  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

glass  in  the  windows  was  little  broken.  Merest 
neglect  is  all  that  is  required  to  make  of  both  man 
and  his  works  a  heap ;  for  will  is  at  the  root  of  well- 
being,  and  nature  speedily  resumes  what  the  will  of 
man  does  not  hold  against  her. 

At  the  top  of  the  stair,  Joan  turned  into  a  room, 
and  keeping  along  the  wall,  went  cautiously  to  the 
window,  and  listened. 

"  I  don't  think  he  will  venture  here,"  she  panted. 
"  The  gardener  tells  me  his  lordship  seems  as  much 
afraid  of  the  place  as  he  and  the  rest  of  them.  I 
don't  mind  it  much  —  in  the  daytime,  —  You  are 
never  frightened,  Cosmo  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  she  turned  on  him  a  face  which,  for 
all  the  speed  she  had  made,  was  yet  pale  as  that  of  a 
ghost. 

"  I  don't  pretend  never  to  be  frightened,"  said 
Cosmo ;  "  all  I  can  say  is,  I  hope  God  will  help  me 
not  to  turn  my  back  on  anything,  however  frightened 
I  may  be." 

But  the  room  he  was  in  seemed  to  him  the  most 
fearful  place  he  had  ever  beheld.  His  memory  of 
the  spare  room  at  home,  with  all  its  age  and  worn 
stateliness  and  evil  report,  showed  mere  innocence 
beside  this  small  common-looking,  square  room.  If 
a  room  dead  and  buried  for  years,  then  dug  up  again, 
be  imaginable,  that  is  what  this  was  like.  It  was 
furnished  like  a  little  drawing-room,  and  many  of  the 
niceties  of  work  and  ornament  that  are  only  to  be 
seen  in  a  lady's  room,  were  yet  recognizable  here 
and  there,  for  everything  in  it  was  plainly  as  it  had 
been  left  by  the  person  who  last  occupied  it.     But 


THE    GARDEN-HOUSE.  43 1 

the  aspect  of  the  whole  was  indescribably  awful. 
The  rottenness  and  dust  and  displacement  by  mere 
decay,  looked  enough  to  scare  even  the  ghosts,  if 
they  had  any  scare  left  in  them.  No  doubt  the  rats 
had  at  one  time  their  share  in  the  destruction,  but  it 
was  long  since  they  had  forsaken  the  house.  There 
was  no  disorder.  The  only  thing  that  looked  as  if 
the  room  had  been  abandoned  in  haste,  was  the  door 
of  a  closet  standing  wide  open.  The  house  had  a 
worse  repute  than  ghost  could  give  it  —  worse  than 
Joan  knew,  for  no  one  had  ever  told  her  what  must 
add  to  her  father's  discredit. 

Something  in  a  corner  of  the  closet  just  mentioned, 
caught  Cosmo's  eye,  and  he  had  taken  one  step 
towards  it,  when  a  sharp  moan  from  the  lips  of  his 
companion  arrested  him.  He  turned,  saw  her  face 
agonized  with  fresh  fear,  and  was  rushing  to  the 
window,  when  she  ran  at  him,  pushed  him  back,  and 
stood  shaking.  He  thought  she  would  have  fallen, 
and  supported  her.  They  stood  listening  speechless, 
with  faces  like  two  moons  in  the  daytime.  Presently 
Cosmo  heard  the  rustling  of  twigs,  and  the  sounds  of 
back-swinging  branches.  These  noises  came  nearer 
and  nearer.  Joan  gazed  with  expanding  eyes  of  ter- 
ror in  Cosmo's  face,  as  if  anywhere  else  she  must  see 
what  would  kill  her. 

"  Joan  !  "  cried  the  same  voice  Cosmo  had  heard 
in  the  garden.  She  shook,  and  held  so  to  Cosmo's 
arm  that  she  left  as  sure  marks,  of  her  fingers  there 
as  ever  did  ghost.  The  sympathy  of  her  fear  m- 
vaded  him.  He  would  have  darted  to  meet  the 
enemy,  but  she  would  not  let  him  go.     The  shuvJae.- 


432  WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

of  a  new  resolve  passed  through  her,  and  she  began 
to  pull  him  towards  the  closet.  Involuntarily  for  a 
moment  he  resisted,  for  he  feared  the  worse  risk  to 
her  ;  but  her  action  and  look  were  imperative,  and  he 
yielded. 

They  entered  the  closet  and  he  pulled  the  door  to 
close  it  upon  them.  It  resisted  ;  he  pulled  harder  ; 
a  rusted  hinge  gave  way,  and  the  door  dropped  upon 
its  front  corner,  so  that  he  had  partly  to  lift  it  to  get 
it  to.  Just  as  he  succeeded,  Joan's  name  on  the 
voice  of  her  fear  echoed  awfully  through  the  mouldy 
silences  of  the  house.  In  the  darkness  of  the  closet, 
where  there  was  just  room  for  two  to  stand,  she  clung 
like  a  child  to  Cosmo,  trembling  in  his  arms  like  one 
in  a  fit  of  the  ague.  It  is  mournful  to  think  what  a 
fear  many  men  are  to  the  women  of  their  house.  The 
/'^woman-fear  in  the  world  is  one  of  its  most  pitiful  out- 
\  cries  after  a  saviour. 

Hesitating  steps  were  heard  below.  They  went 
from  one  to  another  .of  the  rooms,  then  began  to  as- 
cend the  stair. 

"  Now,  Joan,"  said  Cosmo,  holding  her  to  him, 
"  whatever  you  do,  keep  quiet.  Don't  utter  a  sound. 
Please  God,  I  will  take  care  of  you." 

She  pressed  his  shoulder,  but  did  not  speak. 

The  steps  entered  the  room.  Both  Cosmo  and 
Q^an  seemed  to  feel  the  eyes  that  looked  all  about  it. 
riien  me  bteps  came  towards  the  closet.  Now  was 
the  decisive  moment !  Cosmo  was  on  the  point  of 
bursting  out,  with  the  cry  of  a  wild  animal,  when 
something  checked  him,  and  suddenly  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  keep  still  to  the  very  last.     He  put  a 


) 


THE    GARDEN-HOUSE.  433 


hand  on  the  lock,  and  pressed  the  door  down  against 
the  floor.  In  the  faint  light  that  came  through  the 
crack  at  the  top  of  it,  he  could  see  the  dark  terror  of 
Joan's  eyes  fixed  on  his  face.  A  hand  laid  hold  of 
the  lock,  and  pulled,  and^ pulled,  but  in  vain.  Prob- 
ably then  Mergwain  saw  that  the  door  was  fallen 
from  its  hinge.  He  turned  the  key,  and  the  door 
had  not  altered  its  position  too  far  for  his  locking 
them  in.  Then  they  heard  him  go  down  the  stair, 
and  leave  the  house. 

"  He's  not  gone  far  !  "  said  Cosmo.  "  He  /ill 
have  this  closet  open  presently.  You  heard  Uim 
lock  it !  We  must  get  out  of  it  at  once  !  Pleasc,  let 
me  go,  Joan,  dear !     I  must  get  the  door  open." 

She  drew  back  from  him  as  far  as  the  space  would 
allow.  He  put  his  shoulder  to  the  door,  and  sent  i^ 
into  the  middle  of  the  room  with  a  great  crash,  then 
ran  and  lifted  it. 

"  Come,  Joan  !  Quick  !  "  he  cried.  "  Help  me 
to  set  it  up  again." 

The  moment  something  was  to  be  done,  Joan's 
heart  returned  to  her.  In  an  instant  they  had  the 
door  jammed  into  its  place,  with  the  bolt  in  the  catch 
as  Mergwain  had  left  it. 

"  Now,"  said  Cosmo,  "  we  must  get  down  the  stair, 
and  hide  somewhere  below,  till  he  passes,  and  comes 
up  here  again." 

They  ran  to  the  kitchen,  and  made  for  a  small  cel- 
lar opening  off  it.  Hardly  were  they  in  it  when  they 
heard  him  re-enter  and  go  up  the  stair.  The  mo- 
ment he  was  safely  beyond  them,  they  crept  cut,  and 
keeping  close  to  the  wall  of  the  house,  went  Tviina  to 


434  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

the  back  of  it,  and  through  the  thicket  to  a  footpath 
near,  which  led  to  the  highway.  It  was  a  severe 
trial  to  Cosmo's  strength,  now  that  the  excitement  of 
adventure  had  relaxed,  and  left  him  the  weaker. 
Again  and  again  Joan  had  to  urge  him  on,  but  as 
soon  as  she  judged  it  safe,  she  made  him  sit,  and  sup- 
ported him. 

"I  believe,"  she  said,  "that  wretched  man  of  his 
has  put  him  up  to  it.  Constantine  has  found  out 
something.  I  would  not  for  the  world  he  should 
learn  all !  You  don't  know — you  are  far  too  good  to 
know  what  he  would  think  —  yes,  and  tell  me  to  my 
face  !  It  v\as  not  an  easy  life  with  my  father,  Cosmo, 
but  I  would  rather  be  with  him  now,  wherever 
he  is,  than  go  on  living  in  that  house  with  my 
brother." 

"  What  had  we  better  do  ? "  said  Cosmo,  trying  to 
hide  hjs  exhaustion. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  the  Jermyns'.  They 
are  the  only  friends  I  have.  Julia  will  be  kind  to  you 
for  my  sake.  I  will  tell  them  all  about  it.  Young 
Dr.  Jermyn  knows  already." 

Alas,  it  was  like  being  let  down  out  of  paradise 
into  purgatory !  But  when  we  cannot  stay  longer  in 
paradise,  we  must,  like  our  first  parents,  make  the 
best  of  our  purgatory. 

"You  will  be  able  to  come  and  see  me,  will  you 
_iOt-  T^an,"  he  said  sadly. 

i  es,  indeed  !  "  she  answered.  "  It  will  be  easier 
in  some  ways  than  before.  At  home  I  never  could 
get  rid  of  the  dread  of  being  found  out.  As  soon  as 
I  get  you  safe  in,  I  must  hurry  home.    Oh,  dear !  how 


THE    GARDEN-HOUSE. 


435 


shall  I  keep  clear  of  stories  !  Only,  when  you  are 
safe,  I  shall  not  care  so  much." 

In  truth,  although  she  had  seemed  to  fear  all  for 
herself,  her  great  dread  had  been  to  hear  Cosmo 
abused. 

"  What  you  must  have  gone  through  for  me  !  "  said 
Cosmo.     "  It  makes  me  ache  to  think  of  it!  " 

"  It  will  be  only  pleasant  to  look  back  upon, 
Cosmo,"  returned  Joan  with  a  sad  smile.  "  But  oh 
for  such  days  again  as  we  used  to  have  on  the  frozen 
hills!  There  are  the  hills  again  every  winter,  but 
will  the  old  days  ever  come  again,  Cosmo .?  " 

"The  old  days  never  come  again,"  answered 
Cosmo.     "  But  do  you  know  why,  Joan  ?  " 

"  No,"  murmured  Joan,  very  sadly. 

"  Because  they  would  be  getting  in  the  way  of  the 
new  better  days,  whose  turn  it  is,"  replied  Cosmo. 
*'  You  tell  God,  Joan,  all  about  it ;  he  will  give  us 
better  days  than  those.  To  some,  no  doubt,  it  seems 
absurd  that  there  should  be  a  great  hearing  Life  in 
the  world ;  but  it  is  what  you  and  I  need  so  much 
that  we  don't  see  how,  by  any  possibility,  to  get  on 
without  it !  It  cannot  well  look  absurd  to  us  !  And 
if  you.  should  ever  find  you  ca.rwof  pray  any  more,  tell 
me,  and  I  will  try  to  help  you.  I  don't  think  that 
time  will  ever  come  to  me.  I  can't  tell — but  always 
hitherto,  when  I  have  seemed  to  be  at  the  last  gasp, 
things  have  taken  a  turn,  and  it  has  grown  possible 
to  go  on  again." 

"  Ah,  you  are  younger  than  me,  Cosmo  ! "  said 
Joan,  more  sadly  than  ever. 

Cosmo  laughed. 


436  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"Don't  you  show  me  any  airs  on  that  ground,"  he 
said.  "  Leave  that  to  Agnes.  She  is  two  years 
older  than  1,  and  used  always  to  say  when  we  were 
children,  that  she  was  old  enough  to  be  my  mother." 

"  But  I  am  more  than  two  years  older  than  you, 
Cosmo,"  said  Joan. 

"How  much,  then  —  exactly ? "asked  Cosmo. 

"Three  years  and  a  whole  month,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  you  must  be  old  enough  to  be  my  grand- 
mother !  But  I  don't  mean  to  be  sat  upon  for  that. 
Agnes  gave  me  enough  of  that  kind  of  thing  ! " 

Whether  Joan  began  to  feel  a  little  jealous  of 
Agnes,  or  only  more  interested  in  her,  it  would  be 
hard  to  say,  but  Cosmo  had  now  to  answer  a  good 
many  questions  concerning  her ;  and  when  Joan 
learned  what  a  capable  girl  Agnes  was,  understand- 
ing Euclid  and  algebra,  as  Mr.  Simon  said,  better 
than  any  boy,  Cosmo  himself  included,  he  had  ever 
had  to  teach,  the  earl's  daughter  did  feel  a  little  pain 
at  the  heart  because  of  the  cotter's. 

They  reached  at  last  the  village  and  the  doctor's 
house,  where,  to  Joan's  relief,  the  first  person  they 
met  was  Charles,  to  whom  at  once  she  told  the  main 
part  of  their  adventure  that  day.  He  proposed  just 
what  Joan  wished,  and  was  by  no  means  sorry  at  the 
turn  things  had  taken  —  putting  so  much  more  of 
the  game,  as  he  called  it,  into  his  hands. 

Things  were  speedily  arranged,  all  that  was  neces- 
sary told  his  father  and  sister,  and  Joan  invited  to 
stay  to  lunch,  which  was  just  ready.  This  she  thought 
it  better  to  do,  especially  as  Jermyn  and  his  sister 
would  then  walk  home  with  her.     What  the  doctor 


THE    GARDEN-HOUSE.  437 

would  say  if  he  saw  Mergwain,  she  did  not  venture 
to  ask :  she  knew  he  would  tell  any  number  of  sto- 
ries to  get  her  out  of  a  scrape,  while  Cosmo  would 
only  do  or  endure  anything,  from  thrashing  her  brother 
to  being  thrashed  himself. 

A  comfortable  room  was  speedily  prepared  for 
Cosmo,  and  Jermyn  made  him  go  to  bed  at  once. 
Nor  did  he  allow  him  to  see  Joan  again,  for  he  told 
her  he  was  asleep,  and  she  had  better  not  disturb 
him  —  which  was  not  true  —  but  might  have  been, 
for  all  the  doctor  knew  as  he  had  not  been  to  see. 

Joan  did  not  fall  in  with  her  brother  for  a  week, 
and  when  she  saw  him  he  did  not  allude  to  the  affair. 
What  was  in  his  mind  she  did  not  know  for  months. 
Always,  however,  he  was  ready  to  believe  that  the 
mantle  of  the  wickedness  of  his  fathers,  which  he 
had  so  righteously  refused  to  put  on,  had  fallen  upon 
his  sister  instead.     Only  he  had  no  proof. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


CATCH    YOUR    HORSE. 


When  Cosmo  was  left  alone  in  his  room,  with  or- 
ders from  the  doctor  to  put  himself  to  bed,  he  sank 
wearily  on  a  chair  that  stood  with  its  back  to  the 
light ;  then  first  his  eye  fell  upon  the  stick  he  carried. 
Joan  had  brought  him  his  stick  when  he  was  ready  to 
go  into  the  garden,  but  this  was  not  that  stick.  He 
must  have  caught  it  up  somewhere  instead  of  his  own  ! 
Where  could  it  have  been  ?  He  had  no  recollection 
either  of  laying  down  his  own,  or  of  thinking  he  took 
it  again.  After  a  time  he  recalled  this  much,  that,  in 
the  horrible  room  they  had  last  left,  at  the  moment 
when  Joan  cried  out  because  of  the  sound  of  her 
brother's  approach,  he  was  walking  to  the  closet  to 
look  at  something  in  it  that  had  attracted  his  atten- 
tion— seeming  in  the  dusk,  from  its  dull  shine,  the 
hilt  of  a  sword.  The  handle  of  the  walking  stick 
he  now  held  must  be  that  very  thing  !  But  he  could 
not  tell  whether  he  had  caught  it  up  with  any  idea 
of  defence,  or  simply  in  the  dark  his  hand  had  come 

438 


CATCH    YOUR    HORSE.  439 

into  contact  with  it  and  instinctively  closed  upon  it, 
he  could  not  even  conjecture.  But  why  should  he 
have  troubled  his  head  so  about  a  stick.'*  Because 
this  was  a  notably  peculiar  one ;  the  handle  of  that 
stick  was  in  form  a  repetition  of  the  golden  horse 
that  had  carried  him  to  the  university !  Their  com- 
mon shape  was  so  peculiar,  that  not  only  was  there 
no  mistaking  it,  but  no  one  who  saw  the  two  could 
have  avoided  the  conviction  that  they  had  a  common 
origin,  and  if  any  significance,  then  a  common  one. 
There  was  an  important  difference  however :  even  if 
in  substance  this  were  the  same  as  the  other,  it 
could  yet  be  of  small  value  :  the  stick  thus  capped 
was  a  bamboo,  rather  thick,  but  handle  and  all,  very 
light. 

Proceeding  to  examine  it,  Cosmo  found  that  every 
joint  was  double-mounted  and  could  be  unscrewed. 
Of  joints  there  were  three,  each  forming  a  small  box. 
In  the  top  one  were  a  few  grains  of  snuff,  in  the  mid- 
dle one  a  little  of  something  that  looked  like  gold 
dust,  and  the  third  smelt  of  opium.  The  top  of  the 
cane  had  a  cap  of  silver,  with  a  screw  that  went  into 
the  lower  part  of  the  horse,  which  thus  made  a  sort 
of  crutch-handle  to  the  stick.  He  had  screwed  off,  and 
was  proceeding  to  replace  this  handle,  when  his  eye 
was  arrested,  his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still,  and  the 
old  captain's  foolish  rime  came  rushing  into  his  head. 
He  started  from  his  chair,  took  the  thing  to  the  win- 
dow, and  there  stood  regarding  it  fixedly.  Beyond  a 
doubt  this  was  his  great  grand-uncle's,  the  auld  cap- 
tain's, stick,  the  only  thing  missed  when  his  body 
was  found  !  but  whence  such  an  assured  conviction  ? 


440  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  why  did  the  old  captain's  rime,  whose  application 
to  the  golden  horse  his  father  and  he  had  rejected, 
return  at  sight  of  this  one,  so  much  its  inferior? 
In  a  word,  whence  the  eagerness  of  curiosity  that 
now  possessed  Cosmo  ? 

In  turning  the  handle  upside  down,  he  saw  that 
from  one  of  the  horse's  delicately  finished  shoes,  a 
nail  was  missing,  and  its  hole  left  empty.  It  was  a 
hind  shoe  too ! 

"  Caitch  yer  naig,  an'  pii'  his  tail ; 
In  his  hin'  heel  caw  a  nail ! 

I  do  believe,"  he  said  to  himself,  "this  is  the  horse 
that  was  in  the  old  villain's  head  every  time  he  uttered 
the  absurd  rime  !  " 

There  must  then  be  in  the  cane  a  secret,  through 
which  possibly  the  old  man  had  overreached  himself  1 
Had  that  secret,  whatever  it  was,  been  discovered,  or 
did  it  remain  for  him  now  to  discover  ? 

A  passion  of  curiosity  seized  him,  but  something 
held  hii^  back.  What  was  it  ?  The  stick  was  not 
his  property ;  any  discovery  concerning  or  by  means 
of  it,  ought  lo  be  made  with  the  consent  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  owner  of  it  —  her  to  whom  the  old 
lord  had  left  his  personal  property  ! 

And  now  Cosmo  had  to  go  through  an  experience 
as  strange  as  it  was  new,  for,  in  general  of  a  quietly 
expectant  disposition,  he  had  now  such  a  burning  de- 
sire to  conquer  the  secret  of  the  stick,  as  appeared  to 
him  to  savour  oi possession.  It  was  so  unlike  himself, 
that  he  was   both    angry  and  ashamed.     He  set  it 


CATCH    YOUR    HORSE.  441 

'aside  and  went  to  bed.  But  the  haunting  eagerness 
would  not  let  him  rest;  it  kept  him  tossing  from  side 
to  side,  and  was  mingled  with  strangest  fears  lest  the 
stick  should  vanish  as  mysteriously  as  it  had  come 
—  lest  when  he  woke  he  should  find  it  had  been  car- 
ried away.  He  got  out  of  bed,  unscrewed  the  horse, 
and  placed  it  under  his  pillow.  But  there  it  tor- 
mented him  like  an  aching  spot.  It  went  on  draw- 
ing him,  tempting  him,  mocking  him.  He  could  not 
keep  his  hands  from  it.  A  hundred  times  he  re- 
solved he  would  not  touch  it  again,  and  of  course 
kept  his  resolution  so  long  as  he  thought  of  it ;  but  the 
moment  he  forgot  it,  which  he  did  repeatedly  in  won- 
dering why  Joan  did  not  come,  the  horse  would  be  in 
his  hand.  Every  time  he  woke  frorn  a  moment's 
sleep,  he  found  it  in  his  hand. 

On  his  return  from  accompanying  Lady  Joan,  Jer- 
myn  came  to  him,  found  him  feverish,  and  prescribed 
for  him.  Disappointed  that  Joan  was  gone  without 
seeing  him,  his  curiosity  so  entirely  left  him  that  he 
could  not  recall  what  it  was  like,  and  never  imagined 
its  possible  return.  Nor  did  it  reappear  so  long  as 
he  was  awake,  but  all  through  his  dreams  the  old 
captain  kept  reminding  him  that  the  stick  was  his 
own.  "  Do  it ;  do  it ;  don't  put  off,"  he  kept  saying; 
but  as  often  as  Cosmo  asked  him  what,  he  could 
never  hear  his  reply,  and  would  wake  yet  again  with 
the  horse  in  his  hand.  In  the  morning  he  screwed 
It  on  the  stick  again,  and  set  it  by  his  bed-side 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


PULL    HIS    TAIL. 


About  noon,  when  both  the  doctors  happened  to 
be  out,  Joan  came  to  see  hmi,  and  was  more  Uke  her 
former  self  than  she  had  been  for  many  days. 
Hardly  was  she  seated  when  he  took  the  stick,  and 
said, 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  before,  Joan  ? " 

"  Do  you  remember  showing  me  a  horse  just  like 
that  one,  only  larger  ?  "  she  returned.  "  It  was  in 
the  drawing-room." 

"  Quite  well,"  he  answered. 

"  It  made  me  think  of  this,"  she  continued,  "  which 
I  had  often  seen  in  that  same  closet  where  I  suppose 
you  found  it  yesterday." 

Cosmo  unscrewed  the  joints  and  showed  her  the 
different  boxes. 

"There's  nothing  in  them,"  he  said;  "but  I  sus- 
pect there  is  something  about  this  stick  more  than 
we  can  tell.  Do  you  remember  the  silly  Scotch  rime 
I  repeated  the  other  day,  when  you  told  me  I  had 
been  talking  poetry  in  my  sleep  ?  " 
442 


PULL    HIS    TAIL.  443 


"  Yes,  very  well,"  she  answered. 

"  Those  are  words  an  uncle  of  my  father,  whom 
you  may  have  heard  of  as  the  old  captain,  used  to  re- 
peat very  often."  -^  At  this  Joan's  face  turned  pale, 
but  her  back  was  to  the  ght,  and  he  did  not  see  it. 
—  "I  will  say,  them  presently  in  English,  that  you 
may  know  what  sense  there  may  be  in  the  foolish- 
ness of  them.  Now  I  must  tell  you  that  I  am  all  but 
certain  this  stick  once  belonged  to  that  same  great 
uncle  of  mine  —  how  it  came  i  .to  your  father's  pos- 
session I  cannot  say  —  and  last  night,  as  I  was  look- 
ing at  it,  I  saw  something  that  made  me  nearly  sure 
this  is  the  horse,  insignificant  as  it  looks,  that  was  in 
my  uncle's  head  when  he  repeated  the  rime.  But  I 
would  do  nothing  without  you." 

"  How  kind  of  you,  Cosmo  !  " 

"  Not  kind ;  I  had  no  right ;  the  stick  is  yours." 

"  How  can  that  be,  if  it  belonged  to  your  great 
uncle  ?  "  said  Joan,  casting  down  her  eyes. 

"  Because  it  was  more  than  fifty  years  in  your 
father's  possession,  and  he  left  it  to  you.  Besides,  I 
cannot  be  absolutely  certain  it  is  the  same." 

"Then  I  give  it  to  you,  Cosmo." 

"  I  will  not  accept  it,  Joan  —  at  least  before  you 
know  what  it  is  you  want  to  give  me.  —  And  now  for 
this  foolish  rime  —  in  English  ! 

"Catch  your  horse  and  pull  his  tail; 
In  his  hind  heel  drive  a  nail ; 
Pull  his  ears  from  one  another : 
Stand  up  and  call  the  king  your  brother  f 

What's  to  come  of  it,  I  know  no  more  than  you  do. 


444  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Joan,"  continued  Cosmo  ;  "  but  if  you  will  allow  me, 
I  will  do  with  this  horse  what  the  rime  says,  and  if 
they  belong  to  each  other,  we  shall  soon  see." 

"  Do  whatever  you  please,  Cosmo,"  returned  Joan, 
with  a  tremble  in  her  voice. 

Cosmo  began  to  screw  off  the  top  of  the  stick. 
Joan  left  her  chair,  drew  nearer  to  the  bed,  and  pres- 
ently sat  down  on  the  edge  of  it,  gazing  with  great 
wide  eyes.  She  was  more  moved  than  Cosmo ;  there 
was  a  shadow  of  horror  in  her  look ;  she  dreaded 
some  frightful  revelation.  Her  father's  habit  of  mut- 
tering his  thoughts  aloud,  had  given  her  many  things 
to  hear,  although  not  many  to  understand.  When 
the  horse  was  free  in  Cosmo's  hand,  he  set  the  stick 
aside,  looked  up,  and  said, 

"  The  first  direction  the  rime  gives,  is  to  pull  his 
tail." 

With  that  he  pulled  the  horse's  tail — of  silver, 
apparently,  like  the  rest  of  him  —  pulled  it  hard  ;.  but 
it  seemed  of  a  piece  with  his  body,  and  there  was  no 
visible  result.  The  first  shadow  of  approaching  dis- 
appointment came  creeping  over  him,  but  he  looked 
up  at  Joan,  and  smiled  as  he  said, 

"  He  doesn't  seem  to  mind  that !  We'll  try  the 
next  thing  —  which  is,  to  drive  a  nail  in  his  hind  heel. 
—  Now  look  here,  Joam  !  Here,  in  one  of  his  hind 
shoes,  is  a  hole  that  l-ooks  as  if  one  of  the  nails  had 
come  out !  That  is  what  struck  me,  and  brought  the 
rime  into  my  head  !  But  how  drive  a  nail  into  such 
a  hole  as  that  ? " 

"  Perhaps  a  tack  would  go  in,"  said  Joan,  rising. 
"  I  shall  pull  one  out  of  the  carpet." 


PULL    HIS    TAIL. 


445 


"  A  tack  would  be  much  too  large,  I  think,"  said 
Cosmo.  "  Perhaps  a  brad  out  of  the  gimp  of  that 
chair  would  do.  —  Or,  stay,  I  know!  Have  you  got 
a  hair-pin  you  could  give  me  ? " 

Joan  sat  down  again  on  the  bed,  took  off  her  bon- 
net, and  searching  in  her  thick  hair  soon  found  one. 
Cosmo  took  it  eagerly,  and  applied  it  to  the  hole  in 
the  shoe.  Nothing  the  least  larger  would  have  gone 
in.  He  pushed  it  gently,  then  a  little  harder  —  felt 
as  if  something  yielded  a  little,  returning  his  pressure, 
and  pushed  a  little  harder  still.  Something  gave  way, 
and  a  low  noise  followed,  as  of  a  watch  running  down. 
The  two  faces  looked  at  each  other,  one  red,  and  one 
pale.  The  sound  ceased.  They  waited  a  little,  in 
almost  breathless  silence.     Nothing  followed. 

*'  Now,"  said  Cosmo,  "  for  the  last  thing  !  " 

*'Not  quite  the  last,"  returned  Joan,  with  what 
was  nearly  an  hysterical  laugh,  trying  to  shake  off 
the  fear  that  grew  upon  her ;  "  the  last  thing  is  to 
stand  up  and  call  the  king  your  brother." 

*'  That  much,  as  non-essential,  I  daresay  we  shall 
omit,"  replied  Cosmo.  —  "  The  next  then  is,  to  pull  his 
ears  from  each  other." 

He  took  hold  of  one  of  the  tiny  ears  betwixt  the 
finger  and  thumb  of  each  hand,  and  pulled.  The 
body  of  the  horse  came  asunder,  divided  down  the 
back,  and  showed  inside  of  it  a  piece  of  paper.  Cosmo 
took  it  out.  It  was  crushed,  rather  than  folded, 
round  something  soft.     He  handed  it  to  Joan. 

"It  is  your  turn  now,  Joan,"  he  said;  "you  open 
it.     I  have  done  my  part." 

Cosmo's  eyes  were  now  fixed  on  the  movements  of 


446  WARLOCK    O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

Joan's  fingers  undoing  the  little  parcel,  as  hers  had 
been  on  his  while  he  was  finding  it.  Within  the 
paper  was  a  piece  of  cotton  wool.  Joan  dropped  the 
paper,  and  unfolded  the  wool.  Bedded  in  the  middle 
of  that  were  two  rings.  The  eyes  of  Cosmo  fixed 
themselves  on  one  of  them  —  the  eyes  of  Joan  upon 
the  other.  In  the  one  Cosmo  recognized  a  large 
diamond ;  in  the  other  Joan  saw  a  dark  stone  en- 
graved with  the  Mergwain  arms. 

"  This  is  a  very  valuable  diamond,"  said  Cosmo, 
looking  closely  at  it. 

"  Then  that  shall  be  your  share,  Cosmo,"  returned 
Joan.     "I  will  keep  this  if  you  don't  mind." 
"  What  have  you  got  ? "  asked  Cosmo. 
"  My  father's  signet-ring,  I  believe,"  she  answered. 
"  I    have   often    heard    him  —  bemoan  the    loss    of 
it." 

Lord  Mergwain's  ring  in  the  old  captain's  stick! 
Things  began  to  put  themselves  together  in  Cosmo's 
mind.     He  lay  thinking. 

The  old  captain  had  won  these  rings  from  the 
young  lord  and  put  them  for  safety  in  the  horse ; 
Borland  suspected,  probably  charged  him  with  false 
play ;  they  fought,  and  his  lordship  carried  away  the 
stick  to  recover  his  own ;  but  had  failed  to  find  the 
rings,  taking  the  boxes  in  the  bamboo  for  all  there 
was  of  stowage  in  it. 

It  was  by  degrees,  however,  that  this  theory  formed 
itself  in  his  mind ;  now  he  saw  only  a  glimmer  of  it 
here  and  there. 

In  the  meantime  he  was  not  a  little  disappointed. 
Was  this  all  the  great  mystery  of  the  berimed  horse  ? 


PULL    HIS    TAIL.  447 


It  was  as  if  a  supposed  opal  had  burst,  and  proved  but 
a  soap-bubble ! 

Joan  sat  silent,  looking  at  the  signet-ring,  and  the 
tears  came  slowly  in  her  eyes. 

"I  may  keep  this  ring,  may  I  not,  Cosmo.?"  shfe 
said. 

"  My  dear  Joan  !  "  exclaimed  Cosmo,  "  the  ring  is 
not  mine  to  give  anybody,  but  if  you  will  give  me  the 
stick,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  to  you." 

"  I  will  give  it  you  on  ,one  condition,  Cosmo,"  an- 
swered Joan,  "  —  that  you  take  the  ring  as  well.  I 
do  not  care  about  rings." 

"  I  do,"  answered  Cosmo ;  "  but  sooner  than  take 
this  from  you,  Joan,  I  would  part  with  the  hope  of 
ever  seeing  you  again.  Why,  dear  Joan,  you  don't 
know  what  this  diamond  is  worth !  —  and  you  have  no 
money ! " 

"Neither  have  you,"  retorted  Joan.  "  —  What  is 
the  thing  worth?" 

"I  do  not  like  to  say  lest  I  should  be  wrong.  If  I 
could  weigh  it,  I  should  be  better  able  to  tell  youf. 
But  its  worth  must  anyhow  be,  I  think  —  somewhere 
towards  two  hundred  pounds." 

"Then  take  it,  Cosmo.  Or  if  you  won't  have  it, 
give  it  to  your  father,  with  my  dear  love." 

"My  father  would  say  to  me  —  'How  could  you 
bring  it,  Cosmo ! '  But  I  will  not  forget  to  give 
him  the  message.  That  he  will  be  delighted  to 
have." 

"  But,  Cosmo !  it  is  of  no  use  to  me.  How  could  I 
get  the  money  you  speak  of  for  it  ?  If  I  were  to 
make  an  attempt  of  the  kind,  my  brother  would  be 


448  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

sure  to  hear  of  it.  It  would  be  better  to  give  it  him 
at  once." 

"That  difficulty  is  easily  got  over,"  answered 
Cosmo.  "  When  I  go,  I  will  take  it  with  me ;  I  know 
where  to  get  a  fair  price  for  it  —  not  always  easy  for 
anything;  I  will  send  you  the  money,  and  you  will  be 
quite  rich  for  a  little  while." 

"My  brother  opens  all  my  letters,"  replied  Joan. 
"I  don't  think  he  cares  to  read  them,  but  he  sees  who 
they  are  from." 

"Do  you  have  many  letters,  Joan?  " 

"  Not  many.     Perhaps  about  one  a  month,  or  so." 

"I  could  send  it  to  Dr.  Jermyn."  . 

Joan  hesitated  a  moment,  but  did  not  object.  The 
next  instant  they  heard  the  doctor's  step  at  the  door, 
and  his  hand  on  the  lock.  Joan  rose  hastily,  caught 
up  her  bonnet,  and  sat  down  a  little  way  off.  Cosmo 
drew  the  ring  and  the  pieces  of  the  horse  under  the 
bed-clothes. 

Jermyn  cast  a  keen  glance  on  the  two  as  he  entered, 
took  for  confusion  the  remains  of  excitement,  and 
said  to  himself  he  must  make  haste.  He  felt  Cosmo's 
pulse,  and  pronounced  him  feverish,  then,  turning  to 
Joan,  said  he  must  not  talk,  for  he  had  not  got  over 
yesterday;  it  might  be  awkward  if  he  had  a  relapse. 
Joan  rose  at  once,  and  took  her  leave,  saying  she 
would  come  and  see  him  the  next  morning.  Jermyn 
went  down  with  her,  and  sent  Cosmo  a  draught. 

When  he  had  taken  it,  he  felt  inclined  to  sleep,  and 
turned  himself  from  the  light.  But  the  stick,  which 
was  leaning  against  the  head  of  the  bed,  slipped,  and 
fell  on  a  part  of  the  floor  where  there  was  no  carpet; 


PULL    HIS    TAIL.  449 


the  noise  startled  and  roused  him,  and  the  thought 
came  that  he  had  better  first  of  all  secure  the  ring  — 
for  which  purpose  undoubtedly  there  could  be  no 
better  place  than  the  horse !  There,  however,  the 
piece  of  cotton  wool  would  again  be  necessary,  for 
without  it  the  ring  would  rattle.  He  put  the  ring  in 
the  heart  of  it,  replaced  both  in  the  horse,  and  set 
about  discovering  how  to  close  it  again. 

This  puzzled  him  not  a  little.  Spring  nor  notch, 
nor  any  other  means  of  attachment  between  the  two 
halves  of  the  animal,  could  he  find.  But  at  length  he 
noted  that  the  tail  had  slipped  a  little  way  out,  and 
was  loose ;  and  experimenting  with  it,  by  and  by  dis- 
covered that  by  holding  the  parts  together,  and  wind- 
ing the  tail  round  and  round,  the  horse  —  how,  he 
could  not  tell  —  was  restored  to  its  former  apparent 
solidity. 

And  now  where  would  the  horse  be  safest  ?  Clearly 
in  its  own  place  on  the  stick.  He  got  out  of  bed 
therefore  to  pick  the  stick  up,  and  in  so  doing  saw  on 
the  carpet  the  piece  of  paper  which  had  been  round 
the  cotton.  This  he  picked  up  also,  and  getting  again 
into  bed,  had  begun  to  replace  the  handle  of  the 
bamboo,  when  his  eyes  fell  again  on  the  piece  of 
paper,  and  he  caught  sight  of  crossing  lines  on  it, 
which  looked  like  part  of  a  diagram  of  some  sort. 
He  smoothed  it  out,  and  saw  indeed  a  drawing,  but 
one  quite  unintelligible  to  him.  It  must  be  a  sketch 
or  lineation  of  something — but  of  what?  or  of  what 
kind  of  thing  ?  It  might  be  of  the  fields  constituting 
a  property ;  it  might  be  of  the  stones  in  a  wall ;  it 
might  be  of  an  irregular  mosaic  ;  or  perhaps  it  might 


450  WARLOCK   O*    GLENWARLOCK. 

be  only  a  school-boy's  exercise  in  trigonometry  for 
land-measuring.  It  must  mean  something;  but  it 
could  hardly  mean  anything  of  consequence  to  any- 
body! Still  it  had  been  the  old  captain's  probably — 
or  perhaps  the  old  lord's :  he  would  replace  it  also 
where  he  had  found  it.  Once  more  he  unscrewed  the 
horse  from  the  stick,  opened  it  with  Joan's  hair-pin, 
placed  the  paper  in  it,  closed  all  up  again,  and  lay 
down,  glad  that  Joan  had  got  such  a  ring,  but  think- 
ing the  old  captain  had  made  a  good  deal  of  fuss 
about  a  small  matter.  He  fell  fast  asleep,  slept 
soundly,  and  woke  much  better. 

In  the  evening  came  the  doctor,  and  spent  the 
whole  of  it  with  him,  interesting  and  pleasing  him 
more  than  ever,  and  displaying  one  after  another 
traits  of  character  which  Cosmo,  more  than  pre- 
judiced in  his  favour  already,  took  for  additional 
proofs  of  an  altogether  exceptional  greatness  of  char- 
acter and  aim.  Nor  am  I  capable  of  determining 
how  much  or  how  little  Jermyn  may  have  deceived 
himself  in  regard  of  the  same. 

Now  that  Joan  had  this  ring,  and  his  personal 
attachment  to  the  doctor  had  so  greatly  increased, 
Cosmo  found  himself  able  to  revert  to  the  offer 
Jermyn  once  made  of  lending  him  a  little  money, 
which  he  had  then  declined.  He  would  take  the 
ring  to  Mr.  Burns  on  his  way  home,  and  then  ask 
Joan  to  repay  Dr.  Jermyn  out  of  what  he  sent  her  for 
it.  He  told  Jermyn  therefore,  as  he  sat  by  his  bed- 
side, that  he  found  himself  obliged  after  all  to  accept 
the  said  generous  proposal,  but  would  return  the 
money  before  he  got  quite  home. 


PULL    HIS    TAIL.  45: 


The  doctor  smiled,  with  reasons  for  satisfaction 
more  than  Cosmo  knew,  and  taking  out  his  pocket- 
book,  said,  as  he  opened  it, 

"  I  have  just  cashed  a  cheque,  fortunately,  so  you 
had  better  have  the  money  at  once.  —  Don't  bother 
yourself  about  it,"  he  added,  as  he  handed  him  the 
notes  ;  "  there  is  no  hurry.     I  know  it  is  safe." 

"  This  is  too  much,"  said  Cosmo. 

"  Never  mind  ;  it  is  better  to  have  too  much  than 
too  little  ;  it  will  be  just  as  easy  to  repay." 

Cosmo  thanked  him,  and  put  the  money  under  his 
pillow.  The  doctor  bade  him  good  night,  and  left 
him. 

The  moment  he  was  alone,  a  longing  greater  than 
he  had  ever  yet  felt,  arose  in  his  heart  to  see  his 
father.  The  first  hour  he  was  able  to  travel,  he 
would  set  out  for  home  !  His  camera  obscura  haunted 
with  flashing  water  and  speedwells  and  daisies  and 
horse-gowans,  he  fell  fast  asleep,  and  dreamed  that 
his  father  and  he  were  defending  the  castle  from  a 
great  company  of  pirates,  with  the  old  captain  at  the 
head  of  them. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE   THICK     DARKNESS. 

The  next  day  he  was  still  better,  and  could  not 
think  why  the  doctor  would  not  let  him  get  up.  As 
the  day  went  on,  he  wondered  yet  more  why  Joan 
did  not  come  to  see  him.  Not  once  did  the  thought 
cross  him  that  it  was  the  doctor's  doing.  If  it  had, 
he  would  but  have  taken  it  for  a  precaution  —  as  in- 
deed it  was,  for  the  doctor's  sake,  not  his.  Jermyn 
would  have  as  little  intercourse  between  them  as 
might  be,  till  he  should  have  sprung  his  spiritual 
mine.  But  he  did  all  he  could  to  prevent  him  from 
missing  her,  and  the  same  night  opened  all  his  heart 
to  Cosmo  — that  is,  all  the  show-part  of  it. 

In  terms  extravagant,  which  he  seemed  to  use  be- 
cause he  could  not  repress  them,  he  told  his  frozen 
listener  that  his  whole  nature,  heart  and  soul,  had  been 
for  years  bound  up  in  Lady  Joan  ;  that  he  had  again 
and  again  been  tempted  to  deliver  himself  by  death 
from  despair ;  that  if  he  had  to  live  without  her,  he 
would  be  of  no  use  in  the  world,  but  would  cease  to 
452 


THE  NEXT  DAY  HE  WAS  STILL  BETTER. 


THE   THICK    DARKNESS.  455 

care  for  anything.  He  begged  therefore  his  friend 
Cosmo  Warlock,  seeing  he  stood  so  well  with  the 
lady,  to  speak  what  he  honestly  could  in  his  behalf  ; 
for  if  she  would  not  favour  him,  he  could  no  longer 
endure  life.  His  had  never  been  over  full,  for  he  had 
had  a  hard  youth,  in  which  he  had  often  been  driven 
to  doubt  whether  there  was  indeed  a  God  that  cared 
how  his  creatures  went  on.  He  must  not  say  all 
he  felt,  but  life,  he  repeated,  would  be  no  longer 
worth  leading  without  at  least  some  show  of  favour 
from  Lady  Joan. 

At  any  former  time,  such  words  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  displace  Jermyn  from  the  pedestal  on 
which  Cosmo  had  set  him.  What !  if  all  the  ladies 
in  the  world  should  forsake  him,  was  not  God  yet  the 
all  in  all  ?  But  now  as  he  lay  shivering,  the  words 
entering  his  ears  seemed  to  issue  from  his  soul.  He 
listened  like  one  whom  the  first  sting  has  paralyzed, 
but  who  feels  the  more  every  succeeding  invasion  of 
death.  It  was  a  silent,  yet  a  mortal  struggle.  He 
held  down  his  heart  like  a  wild  beast,  which,^if  he  let 
it  up  for  one  moment,  would  fly  at  his  throat  and 
strangle  him.  Nor  could  the  practiced  eye  of  the 
doctor  fail  to  perceive  what  was  going  on  in  him. 
He  only  said  to  himself  —  "  Better  him  than  me  !  He 
is  young  and  will  get  over  it  better  than  I  should." 
He  read  nobility  and  self-abnegation  in  every  shadow 
that  crossed  the  youth's  countenance,  telling  of  the 
hail  mingled  with  fire  that  swept  through  his  uni- 
verse ;  and  said  to  himself  that  all  was  on  his  side, 
that  he  had  not  miscalculated  a  hair  's-breadth.  He 
saw  at  the  same  time  Cosmo's  heroic  efforts  to  hide 


456  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

his  sufferings,  and  left  him  to  imagine  himself  suc- 
cessful. But  how  Cosmo  longed  for  his  departure, 
that  he  might  in  peace  despair  !  —  for  such  seemed  to 
himself  his  desire  for  solitude. 

What  is  it  in  suffering  that  makes  man  and  beast 
long  for  loneliness  ?  I  think  it  is  an  unknown  some- 
thing, more  than  self,  calling  out  of  the  solitude  — 
"  Come  to  me  !  —  Come  !  "  How  little  of  the  tender- 
ness our  human  souls  need,  and  after  which 
consciously  or  unconsciously  they  hunger,  do  we  give 
or  receive  !  The  cry  of  the  hurt  heart  for  solitude, 
seems  to  me  the  call  of  the  heart  of  God  —  changed 
by  the  echo  of  the  tiny  hollows  of  the  heart  of  his 
creature  —  "  Come  out  from  among  them  :  come  to 
me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest !  "  He  alone  can  give  us 
the  repose  of  love,  the  peace  after  which  our  nature 
yearns. 

Hurt  by  the  selfishness  and  greed  of  men,  to  es- 
cape from  which  we  must  needs  go  out  of  the 
world,  worse  hurt  by  our  own  indignation  at  their 
wrong,  and  our  lack  of  patience  under  it,  we  are  his 
creatures  and  his  care  still.  The  right  he  claims  as 
his  affair,  and  he  will  see  it  done ;  but  the  wrong  is 
by  us  a  thousand  times  well  suffered,  if  it  but  drive 
us  to  him,  that  we  may  learn  he  is  indeed  our  very 
lover. 

That  was  a  terrible  night  for  Cosmo  —  a  night  bil- 
lowy with  black  fire.  It  reminded  him  afterwards 
of  nothing  so  much  as  that  word  of  the  Lord  —  the 
power  of  darkness.  It  was  not  merely  darkness  with 
no  light  in  it,  but  darkness  alive  and  operative.  H^ 
had  hardly  dared  suspect  the  nature,  and  only  now 


THE    THICK    DARKNESS.  457 

knew  the  force,  and  was  about  to  prove  the  strength 
of  the  love  with  which  he  loved  Joan.  Great  things 
may  be  foreseen,  but  they  cannot  be  known  until 
they  arrive.  His  illness  had  been  ripening  him  to 
this  possibility  of  loss  and  suffering.  His  heart  was 
now  in  blossom :  for  that   some  hearts  must  break ; 

—  I  may  not  say  in  full  blossom,  for  what  the  full 
blossom  of  the  human  heart  is,  the  holiest  saint  with 
the  mightiest  imagination  cannot  know — he  can  but 
see  it  shine  from  afar. 

It  was  a  severe  duty  that  was  now  required  of  him 

—  I  do  not  mean  the  performance  of  the  final  request 
the  doctor  had  made  —  that  Cosmo  had  forgotten, 
neither  could  have  attempted  with  honesty ;  for  the 
emotion  he  could  not  but  betray,  would  have  pleaded 
for  himself,  and  not  for  his  friend ;  it  was  enough 
that  he  must  yield  the  lady  of  his  dreams,  become 
the  lady  as  well  of  his  waking  and  hoping  soul. 
Perhaps  she  did  not  love  Jermyn  —  he  could  not 
tell ;  but  Jermyn  was  his  friend  and  had  trusted  in 
him,  confessing  that  his  soul  was  bound  up  in  the 
lady ;  one  of  them  must  go  to  the  torture  chamber, 
and  when  the  qiiestmi  lay  between  him  and  another, 
Cosmo  knew  for  which  it  must  be.  He  alone  was  in 
Cosmo's  hands;  his  own  self  was  all  he  held  and 
had  power  over,  all  he  could  offer,  could  yield.  Mr. 
Simon  had  taught  him  that,  as  a  mother  gives  her 
children  money  to  give,  so  God  gives  his  children 
selves^  with  their  wishes  and  choices,  that  they  may 
have  the  true  offering  to  lay  upon  the  true  altar ;  for 
on  that  altar  nothing  else  will  burn  than  selves. 

"  Very   hard !     A    tyrannical    theory  !  "    says   my 


458  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

reader?  So  will  it  forever  appear  to  the  man  who  has 
neither  the  courage  nor  the  sense  of  law  to  enable 
him  to  obey.  But  that  man  shall  be  the  eternal 
slave  who  says  to  Duty  I  will  not.  Nor  do  I  care  to 
tell  such  a  man  of  the  "  thousand  fold''  —  of  the 
truth  concerning  that  altar,  that  it  is  indeed  the  nest 
of  God's  heart,  in  which  the  poor,  unsightly,  un- 
fledged offering  shall  lie,  until  they  come  to  shape 
and  loveliness,  and  wings  grow  upon  them  to  bear 
them  back  to  us  divinely  precious.  Cosmo  thought 
none  of  all  this  now  —  it  had  vanished  from  his  con- 
sciousness, but  was  present  in  his  life  —  that  is,  in 
his  action :  he  did  not  feel,  he  did  it  all  —  did  it 
even  when  nothing  seemed  worth  doing. 

How  much  greater  a  man  than  he  was  Jermyn! 
How  much  more  worthy  of  the  love  of  a  woman  like 
Joan !  How  good  he  had  been  to  him !  What  a 
horrible  thing  it  would  be  if  Jermyn  had  saved  his 
life  that  he  might  destroy  Jermyn's  !  Perhaps  Joan 
might  have  come  one  day  to  love  him  ;  but  in  the 
meantime  how  miserable  she  was  with  her  brother, 
and  when  could  he  have  delivered  her!  while  here 
was  one,  and  a  far  better  than  he,  who  could,  the 
moment  she  consented,  take  her  to  a  house  of  her 
own  where  she  would  be  a  free  woman  !  For  him  to 
come  in  the  way,  would  be  to  put  his  hand  also  to 
the'  rack  on  which  the  life  of  Joan  lay  stretched  ! 

Again  I  say  I  do  not  mean  that  all  this  passed 
consciously  through  the  mind  of  Cosmo  during  that 
fearful  night.  His  suffering  was  too  intense,  and  any 
doubt  concerning  duty  too  far  from  him,  to  allow  of 
anything  that  could  be  called  thought ;  but  such  were 


THE    THICK    DARKNESS.  459 

the  fundamental  facts  that  lay  below  his  unselfques- 
tioned  resolve  —  such  was  the  soil  in  which  grew  the 
fruits,  that  is,  the  deeds,  the  outcome  of  his  nature. 
For  himself,  the  darkness  billowed  and  rolled  about 
him,  and  life  was  a  frightful  thing. 

For  where  was  God  this  awful  time.?  Nowhere 
within  the  ken  of  the  banished  youth.  In  his  own 
feeling  Cosmo  was  outside  the  city  of  life  —  not  even 
among  the  dogs  —  outside  with  bare  nothingness  — 
cold  negation.  Alas  for  him  who  had  so  lately  of- 
fered to  help  another  to  pray,  thinking  the  hour 
would  never  come  to  him  when  he  could  not  pray ! 
It  had  come!  He  did  not  try  to  pray.  The  thought 
of  prayer  did  not  wake  in  him  !  Let  no  one  say  he 
was  punished  for  his  overconlidence  —  for  his  pre- 
sumption !  There  was  no  presumption  in  the  matter ; 
there  was  only  ignorance.  He  had  not  learned  — 
nor  has  any  one  learned  more  than  in  part  —  what 
awful  possibilities  lie  the  existence  we  call  we.  He 
had  but  spoken  from  what  he  knew  —  that  hitherto 
life  for  him  had  seemed  inseparable  from  prayer  to 
his  Father  And  was  it  separable  ?  Surely  not.  He 
could  not  pray,  true  —  but  neither  was  he  alive.  To 
live,  one  must  chose  to  live.  He  was  dead  with  a 
death  that  was  heavy  upon  him.  There  is  a  far 
worse  death  —  the  death  that  is  content  and  suffers 
nothing ;  but  annihilation  is  not  death  —  is  nothing 
like  it.  Cosmo's  condition  had  no  evil  in  it  —  only 
a  ghastly  imperfection  —  an  abyssmal  lack  —  an  ex- 
haustion at  the  very  roots  of  being.  God  seemed 
away,  as  he  could  never  be  and  be  God.  But  every 
commonest   day  of  his  life,  he  who  would  be  a   live 


460         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

child  of  the  living  has  to  fight  with  the  God-denying 
look  of  things,  and  believe  that  in  spite  of  that  look, 
seeming  ever  to  assert  that  God  has  nothing  to  do 
with  them,  God  has  his  own  way  —  the  best,  the 
only,  the  live  way,  of  being  in  everything,  and  taking 
his  own  pure,  saving  will  in  them;  and  now  for  a 
season  Cosmo  had  fallen  in  the  fight,  and  God  seemed 
gone,  and  thiiigs  rushed  in  upon  him  and  over- 
whelmed him.  It  was  death.  He  did  not  yet  know 
it  —  but  it  was  not  the  loss  of  Joan,  but  the  seeming 
loss  of  his  God,  that  hollowed  the  last  depth  of  his 
miser}'.  But  that  is  of  all  things  the  surest  to  pass  ; 
for  God  changing  not,  his  life  must  destroy  every 
false  show  of  him.  Cosmo  was  now  one  of  those 
holy  children  who  are  bound  hand  and  foot  in  the 
furnace,  until  the  fire  shall  have  consumed  their 
bonds  that  they  may  pace  their  prison.  Stifled  with 
the  smoke  and  the  glow,  he  must  yet  for  a  time  lie 
helpless  ;  not  yet  could  he  lift  up  his  voice  and  call 
upon  the  ice  and  the  cold,  the  frost  and  the  snow 
to  bless  the  Lord,  to  praise  and  exalt  him  forever. 
But  God  was  not  far  from  him.  Feelings  are  not 
scientific  instruments  for  that  which  surrounds  them ; 
they  but  speak  of  themselves  when  they  say,  "  I  am 
cold ;  I  am  dark."  Perhaps  the  final  perfection  will 
be  when  our  faith  is  utterly  and  absolutely  indepen- 
dent of  our  feelings.  I  dare  to  imagine  this  the  firal 
victory  of  our  Lord,  when  he  followed  the  cry  of 
Why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?  with  the  words,  leather, 
into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit. 

Shall  we  then  bemoan  any  darkness?     Shall  we 
not  rather  gird  up  our  strength  to  encounter  it,  that 


THE   THICK    DARKNESS.  461 

we  too  from  our  side  may  break  the  passage  for  the 
light  beyond?  He  who  fights  with  the  dark  shall 
know  the  gentleness  that  makes  man  great  —  the 
dawning  countenance  of  the  God  of  hope.  But  that 
was  not  for  Cosmo  just  yet.  The  night  must  fulfil 
its  hours.  Men  are  meant  and  sent  to  be  troubled  — ■ 
that  they  may  rise  above  the  whole  region  of  storm, 
above  all  possibility  of  being  troubled. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


THE    DAWN. 


Strange  to  say,  there  was  no  return  of  his  fever. 
He  seemed,  through  the  utter  carelessness  of  mental 
agony,  so  to  have  abandoned  his  body,  that  he  no 
longer  affected  it.  A  man  must  have  some  hope,  to 
be  aware  of  his  body  at  all.  As  the  darkness  began 
to  yield  he  fell  asleep. 

Then  came  a  curious  dream.  For  ages  Joan  had 
been  persuading  him  to  go  with  her,  and  the  old  cap- 
tain to  go  with  him  —  the  latter  angry  and  pulling 
him,  the  former  weeping  and  imploring.  He  would 
go  with  neither,  and  at  last  they  vanished  both.  He 
sat  solitary  on  the  side  of  a  bare  hill,  and  below  him 
was  all  that  remained  of  Castle  Warlock.  He  had 
been  dead  so  many  years,  that  it  was  now  but  a  half- 
shapeless  ruin  of  roofless  walls,  haggard  and  hollow 
and  gray  and  desolate.  It  stood  on  its  ridge  like  g 
solitary  tooth  in  the  jaw  of  some  skeleton  beast.  But 
where  was  his  father  ?  How  was  it  he  had  not  yet 
found  him,  if  he  had  been  so  long  dead  ?  He  must 
462 


THE    DAWN.  463 


rise  and  seek  him !  He  must  be  somewhere  in  the 
universe  !  Therewith  came  softly  stealing  up,  at  first 
hardly  audible,  a  strain  of  music  from  the  valley  be- 
low. He  listened.  It  grew  as  it  rose,  and  held  him 
bound.  Like  an  upward  river,  it  rose,  and  grew  with 
a  strong  rushing,  until  it  flooded  all  his  heart  and 
brain,  working  in  him  a  marvellous  good,  which  yet 
he  did  not  understand.  And  all  the  time,  his  eyes 
were  upon  the  dead  home  of  his  fathers.  Wonder 
of  wonders,  it  began  to  change  —  to  grow  before  his 
eyes  !  It  was  growing  out  of  the  earth  like  a  plant ! 
It  grew  and  grew  until  it  was  as  high  as  in  the  old 
days,  and  then  it  grew  yet  higher  !  A  roof  came 
upon  it,  and  turrets  and  battlements  —  all  to  the  sound 
of  that  creative  music;  and  like  fresh  shoots  from 
its  stem,  out  from  it  went  wings  and  walls.  Like  a 
great  flower  it  was  rushing  visibly  on  to  some  mighty 
blossom  of  grandeur,  when  the  dream  suddenly  left 
him,  and  he  woke. 

But  instead  of  the  enemy  coming  in  upon  him  like 
a  flood  as  his  consciousness  returned,  to  his  astonish- 
ment he  found  his  soul  as  calm  as  it  was  sad.  God 
had  given  him  while  he  slept,  and  he  knew  him  near  as 
his  own  heart !  The  first  thought  that  came  was,  that 
his  God  was  Joan's  God  too,  and  therefore  all  was 
well ;  so  long  as  God  took  care  of  her,  and  was  with 
him,  and  his  will  was  done  in  them  both,  all  was  on 
the  way  to  be  well  so  as  nothing  could  be  better. 
And  with  that  he  knew  what  he  had  to  do  —  knew  it 
without  thinking  —  and  proceeded  at  once  to  do  it. 
He  rose,  and  dressed  himself. 

It  was  still  the  gray  sunless  morning.     The  dream, 


464  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

with  its  dream-ages  of  duration,  had  not  crossed  the 
shallows  of  the  dawn.  Quickly  he  gathered  his  few 
things  into  his  knapsack  —  fortunately  their  number 
had  nowise  increased  —  took  his  great-uncle's  bam- 
boo, saw  that  his  money  was  safe,  stole  quietly  down 
the  stair,  and  softly  and  safely  out  of  the  house,  and, 
ere  any  of  its  inhabitants  were  astir,  had  left  the  vil- 
lage by  the  southward  road. 

When  he  had  walked  about  a  mile,  he  turned  into 
a  road  leading  eastward,  with  the  design  of  going  a 
few  miles  in  that  direction,  and  then  turning  to  the 
north.  When  he  had  travelled  what  to  his  weakness 
was  a  long  distance,  all  at  once,  with  the  dismay  of  a 
perverse  dream,  rose  above  the  trees  the  towers  of 
Cairncarque.  Was  he  never  to  escape  them,  in  the 
body  any  more  than  in  the  spirit?  He  turned  back, 
and  again  southwards. 

But  now  he  had  often  to  sit  down;  as  often,  how- 
ever, he  was  able  to  get  up  and  walk.  Coming  to  a 
village  he  learned  that  a  coach  for  the  north  would 
pass  within  an  hour,  and  going  to  the  inn  had  some 
breakfast,  and  waited  for  it.  Finding  it  would  pass 
through  the  village  he  had  left,  he  took  an  inside 
place ;  and  when  it  stopped  for  a  moment  in  the  one 
street  of  it,  saw  Charles  Jermyn  cross  it,  evidently 
without  a  suspicion  that  his  guest  was  not  where  he 
had  left  him. 

When  he  had  travelled  some  fifty  miles,  partly  to 
save  his  money,  partly  because  he  felt  the  need  of  ex- 
ercise, not  to  stifle  thought,  but  to  clear  it,  he  left  the 
coach,  and  betook  himself  to  his  feet.  Alternately 
walking  and  riding,  he  found  his  strength  increase  as 


THE    DAWN.  465 


he  went  on ;  and  his  sorrow  continued  to  be  that  of  a 
cloudy  summer  day,  nor  was  ever,  so  long  as  the 
journey  lasted,  again  that  of  the  fierce  wintry  tem- 
pest. 

At  length  he  drew  nigh  the  city  where  he  had  spent 
his  student  years.  On  foot,  weary,  and  dusty,  and 
worn,  he  entered  it  like  a  returning  prodigal.  Few 
Scotchmen  would  think  he  had  made  good  use  of 
his  learning!  But  he  had  made  the  use  of  it  God  re- 
quired, and  some  Scotchmen,  with  and  without  other 
learning,  have  learned  to  think  that  a  good  use,  and 
in  itself  a  sufficient  success  —  for  that  man  came  into 
the  world  not  to  make  money,  but  to  seek  the  king- 
dom and  righteousness  of  God. 

He  walked  straight  into  Mr.  Burns's  shop. 

The  jeweller  did  not  know  him  at  first;  but  the 
moment  he  spoke,  recognized  him.  Cosmo  had  been 
dubious  what  his  reception  might  be  —  after  the  way 
in  which  their  intimacy  had  closed ;  but  Mr.  Burns 
held  out  his  hand  as  if  they  had  parted  only  the  day 
before,  and  said, 

"I  thought  of  the  two  you  would  be  here  before 
Death!     Man,  you  ought  to  give  a  body  time." 

"Mr.  Burns,"  replied  Cosmo,  "I  am  very  sorry  I 
behaved  to  you  as  I  did.  I  am  not  sorry  I  said  what 
I  did,  for  I  am  no  less  sure  about  that  than  I  was 
then ;  but  I  am  sorry  I  never  came  again  to  see  you. 
Perhaps  we  did  not  quite  understand  on  either  side." 

"  We  shall  understand  each  other  better  now,  I 
fancy,"  said  Mr.  Burns.  "I  am  glad  you  have  not 
changed  your  opinion,  for  I  have  changed  mine.  If 
it  weren't  for  you,  I  should  be  retired  by  this  time, 


466  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  you  would  have  found  another  name  over  the 
door.  But  we'll  have  a  talk  about  all  that.  Allow 
me  to  ask  you  whither  you  are  bound." 

"I  am  on  my  way  home,"  answered  Cosmo.  "I 
have  not  seen  my  father  for  several  —  for  more  than 
two  years." 

"  You'll  do  me  the  honour  to  put  up  at  my  house 
to-night,  will  yon  not  .-*  I  am  a  bachelor,  as  you 
know,  but  will  do  my  best  to  make  you  comfortable." 

Cosmo  gladly  assented  ;  and  as  it  was  now  evening, 
Mr.  Burns  hastened  the  shutting  of  his  shop ;  and  in 
a  few  minutes  they  were  seated  at  supper. 

As  soon  as  tlie  servant  left  them,  they  turned  to 
talk  of  divine  righteousness  in  business ;  and  thence 
to  speak  of  the  jeweller's :  after  which  Cosmo  intro- 
duced that  of  the  ring.  Giving  a  short  narrative  of 
the  finding  of  it,  and  explaining  the  position  of  Lady 
Joan  with  regard  to  it,  so  that  his  host  might  have  no 
fear  of  compromising  himself,  he  ended  with  telling 
him  he  had  brought  it  to  him,  and  with  what  object. 

"I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Warlock,"  re- 
sponded the  jeweller,  "for  placing  such  confidence  in 
me,  and  that  notwithstanding  the  mistaken  principles 
I  used  to  advocate.  I  have  seen  a  little  farther  since 
then,  I  am  happy  to  say ;  and  this  is  how  it  was  :  the 
words  you  then  spoke,  and  I  took  so  ill,  would  keep 
coming  into  my  mind,  and  that  at  the  most  inconven- 
ient moments,  until  at  last  I  resolved  to  look  the 
thing  in  the  face,  and  think  it  fairly  out.  The  result 
is,  that,  although  I  daresay  nobody  has  recognized 
any  difference  in  my  way  of  doing  business,  there  is 
one  who  must  know  a  great  difference  :  I  now  think 


THE   DAWN.  467 


of  my  neighbour's  side  of  the  bargain  as  well  as  of 
my  own,  and  abstain  from  doing  what  it  would  vex  me 
to  find  I  had  not  been  sharp  enough  to  prevent  him 
from  doing  with  me.  In  consequence,  I  am  not  so 
rich  this  day  as  I  might  otherwise  have  been,  but  I 
enjoy  life  more,  and  hope  the  days  of  my  ignorance 
God  has  winked  at." 

Cosmo  could  not  reply  for  pleasure.  Mr.  Burns 
saw  his  emotion,  and  understood  it.  From  that  hour 
they  were  friends  who  loved  each  other. 

"  And  now  for  the  ring ! "  said  the  jeweller. 

Cosmo  produced  it. 

Mr.  Burns  looked  at  it  as  if  his  keen  eyes  would 
pierce  to  the  very  heart  of  its  mystery,  turned  it  every 
way,  examined  it  in  every  position  relative  to  the 
light,  removed  it  from  its  setting,  went  through  the 
diamond  catechism  with  it  afresh,  then  weighed  it, 
thought  over  it,  and  said, 

"What   do  you    take  the  stone  to  be  worth,  Mr.  ■ 
Warlock  ? " 

"  I  can  only  guess,  of  course,"  replied  Cosmo ; 
"but  the  impression  on  my  mind  is,  that  it  is  worth 
more  nearly  two  hundred  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds." 

"You  are  right,"  answered  Mr.  Burns,  "and  you 
ought  to  have  followed  my  trade ;  I  could  make  a 
good  jeweller  of  you.  This  ring  is  worth  two  hundred 
guineas,  fair  market-value.  But  as  I  can  ask  from  no 
one  more  than  it  is  absolutely  worth,  I  must  take  my 
profit  oif  you  :  do  you  think  that  is  fair  ? " 

"  Perfectly,"  answered  Cosmo. 

"  Then  I  must  give  you  only  two  hundred  pounds 


468  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

for  it,  and  take  the  shillings  myself.  You  see  it  may  be 
some  time  before  I  get  my  money  again,  so  I  think  five 
per  cent  on  the  amount  is  not  more  than  the  fair  thing.*' 

"  It  seems  to  me  perfectly  fair,  and  very  moderate," 
replied  Cosmo. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  he  sat  down  to  write 
to  Joan.  While  there  was  nothing  that  must  be  said, 
he  had  feared  writing.     This  was  what  he  wrote  : 

"  My  dearest  Joan, 

"  As  you  have  trusted  me  hitherto,  so  trust  me  still,  and  wait 
for  an  explanation  of  my  peculiar  behaviour  in  going  away  with- 
out bidding  you  good-by,  till  the  proper  time  comes  —  which 
must  come  one  day,  for  our  master  said,  more  than  once,  that 
there  was  nothing  covered  which  shoulc^not  be  revealed,  neither 
hid  that  should  not  be  known.  I  feel  sure  therefore,  of  being 
allowed  to  tell  you  everything  sometime. 

"  I  herewith  send  you  a  cheque  as  good  as  bank-notes,  much 
safer  to  send,  and  hardly  more  difficult  for  Dr  Jermyn  to  turn 
into  sovereigns. 

"  I  borrowed  of  him  fifteen  pounds  —  a  good  deal  more  than 
I  wanted.  I  have  therefore  got  Mr.  Burns,  my  friend,  the  jew- 
eller, in  this  city,  to  add  five  pounds  to  the  two  hundred  which 
he  gives  for  the  ring,  and  beg  you,  Joan,  for  the  sake  of  old 
times,  and  new  also,  to  pay  for  me  the  fifteen  pounds  to  Dr. 
Jermyn,  which  I  would  much  rather  owe  to  you  than  to  him. 
The  rest  of  it,  the  other  ten  pounds,  I  will  pay  you  when  I  can 
—  it  may  not  be  in  this  world.  And  in  the  next  —  what  then, 
Joan  ?  Why  then  —  but  for  that  we  will  wait  —  who  more  ear- 
nestly than  I  ? 

"  To  all  the  coming  eternity,  dear  Joan,  I  shall  never  cease  to 
love  you  —  first  for  yourself,  then  for  your  great  lovely  goodness 
to  me.  May  the  only  perfection,  whose  only  being  is  love,  take 
you  to  his  heart  —  as  he  is  always  trying  to  do  with  all  of  us  I 
I  mean  to  let  him  have  me  out  and  out. 

"  Dearest  Joan,    Your  far-off  cousin,  but  near  friend, 

"  Cosmo  Warlock." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


HOME  AGAIN. 


Early  the  next  day,  while  the  sun  was  yet  casting 
huge  diagonal  shadows  across  the  wide  street,  Cosmo 
climbed  to  the  roof  of  the  Defiance  coach,  his  heart 
swelling  at  the  thought  of  being  so  soon  in  his  fath- 
er's arms.  It  was  a  lovely  summer  morning,  cool 
and  dewy,  fit  for  any  Sunday  —  whence  the  eyes  and 
mind  of  Cosmo  turned  to  the  remnants  of  night  that 
banded  the  street,  and  from  them  he  sank  into  meta- 
physics, chequered  with  the  champing  clank  of  the 
bits,  the  voices  of  the  ostlers,  passengers,  and  guard, 
and  the  perpendicular  silence  of  the  coachman,  who 
sat  like  a  statue  in  front  of  him. 

How  dark  were  the  shadows  the  sun  was  casting  ! 

Absurd  !  the  sun  casts  no  shadows  —  only  light. 

How  so  ?  Were  the  sun  not  shining,  would  there 
be  one  single  shadow  ? 

Yes ;  there  would  be  just  one  single  shadow ;  all 
would  be  shadow. 

There  would  be  none  of  those  things  we  call 
shadows. 

469 


470  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

True ;  all  would  be  shade  ;  there  would  be  no 
shadows. 

By  such  a  little  stair  was  Cosmo  landed  at  a  door 
of  deep  question.  For  now  evil  took  the  place  of 
shadow  in  his  solo  disputation,  and  the  law  and  the 
light  and  the  shadow  and  the  sin  went  thinking 
about  with  each  other  in  his  mind  ;  and  he  saw  how 
the  Jews  came  to  attribute  evil  to  the  hand  of  God 
as  well  as  good,  and  how  St.  Paul  said  that  the  law 
gave  life  to  sin  —  as  by  the  sun  is  the  shadow.  He 
saw  too  that  in  the  spiritual  world  we  need  a  live  sun 
strong  enough  to  burn  up  all  the  shadows  by  shining 
through  the  things  that  cast  them,  and  compelling 
their  transparency  —  and  that  sun  is  the  God  who  is 
light,  and  in  whom  is  no  darkness  at  all — which 
truth  is  the  gospel  according  to  St.  John.  And 
where  there  is  no  longer  anything  covered  or  hid, 
could  sin  live  at  all?  These  and  such  like  thoughts 
held  him  long  —  till  the  noisy  streets  of  the  granite 
city  lay  far  behind. 

Swiftly  the  road  flew  from  under  the  sixteen  flash- 
ing shoes  of  the  thorough-breds  that  bore  him  along. 
The  light  and  hope  and  strength  of  the  new-born  day 
were  stirring,  mounting,  swelling  —  even  in  the  heart 
of  the  sad  lover ;  in  every  honest  heart  more  or  less, 
whether  young  or  old,  feeble  or  strong,  the  new  sum- 
mer day  stirs,  and  will  stir  while  the  sun  has  heat 
enough  for  men  to  live  on  the  earth.  Surely  the 
live  God  is  not  absent  from  the  symbol  of  his  glory ! 
The  light  and  the  hope  are  not  there  without  him  ! 
When  strength  wakes  in  my  heart,  shall  I  be  the 
slave  to  imagine  it  comes  only  as  the  sap  rises  in  the 


HOME    AGAIN.  47  I 


Stem  of  the  reviving  plant,  or  the  mercury  in  the  tube 
of  the  thermometer  ?  that  there  is  no  essential  life 
within  my  conscious  life,  no  spirit  within  my  spirit  ? 
If  my  origin  be  not  life,  I  am  the  poorest  of  slaves  ! 

Cosmo  had  changed  since  first  he  sat  behind  such 
horses,  on  his  way  to  the  university;  it  was  the 
change  of  growth,  but  he  felt  it  like  that  of  decay  — 
as  if  he  had  been  young  then  and  was  old  now. 
Little  could  he  yet  imagine  what  age  means  !  De- 
vout youth  as  he  was,  he  little  understood  how  much 
more  than  he  his  father  felt  his  dependence  on,  that 
is  his  strength  in  God.  Many  years  had  yet  to  pass 
ere  he  should  feel  the  splendour  of  an  existence 
rooted  in  changeless  Life  ripening  through  the  grow- 
ing weakness  of  the  body  !  It  is  the  strength  of  God 
that  informs  every  muscle  and  arture  of  the  youth, 
but  it  is  so  much  his  own  —  looks  so  natural  to  him 
—  as  it  well  may,  being  God's  idea  for  him  —  that, 
in  the  glory  of  its  possession,  he  does  not  feel  it  as 
the  presence  of  the  making  God.  But  when  weak- 
ness begins  to  show  itself,  —  a  shadow-back-ground, 
against  which  the  strength  is  known  and  outlined  — 
when  every  movement  begins  to  demand  a  distinct 
effort  of  the  will,  and  the  earthly  house  presses,  a 
conscious  weight,  not  upon  its  own  parts  only,  but 
upon  the  spirit  within,  then  indeed  must  a  man  have 
God,  believe  in  him  with  an  entireness  independent 
of  feeling,  and  going  beyond  all  theory,  or  be  de- 
voured by  despair.  In  the  growing  feebleness  of  old 
age,  a  man  may  well  come  to  accept  life  only  because 
it  is  the  will  of  God  ;  but  the  weakness  of  such  a 
man  is  the   matrix   of  a  divine   strength,  whence  a 


472  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

gladness  unspeakable  shall  ere  long  be  bora  —  the 
life  which  it  is  God's  intent  to  share  with  his  chil- 
dren. 

Cosmo  was  on  the  way  to  know  all  this,  but  now 
his  trouble  sat  sometimes  heavy  upon  him.  Indeed 
the  young  straight  back,  if  it  feels  the  weight  less, 
feels  the  irksomeness  of  the  burden  more  than  the 
old  bowed  one.  With  strength  goes  the  wild  love  of 
movement,  and  the  cross  that  prevents  the  free  play 
of  a  single  muscle  is  felt  grievous  as  the  fetter  that 
chains  a  man  to  the  oar.  But  this  day  —  and  what 
man  has  to  do  with  yesterday  or  to-morrow  .-'  —  the 
sun  shone  as  if  he  knew  nothing,  or  as  if  he  knew  all, 
and  knew  it  to  be  well ;  and  Cosmo  was  going  home, 
and  the  love  of  his  father  was  a  deep  gladness,  even 
in  the  presence  of  love's  lack.  Seldom  is  it  so  ,  but 
between  the  true  father,  and  true  son  it  always  will  be 
so. 

When  he  came  within  a  mile  of  Muir  of  Warlock, 
he  left  the  coach,  and  would  walk  the  rest  of  the  way. 
He  desired  to  enjoy,  in  gentle,  unruffled  flow,  the 
thoughts  that  like  swallows  kept  coming  and  going 
between  him  and  his  nest  as  he  approached  it. 
Everything,  the  commonest,  that  met  him  as  he  went, 
had  a  strange  beauty,  as  if,  although  he  had  known  it 
so  long,  now  first  was  its  innermost  revealed  b}-  some 
polarized  light  from  source  unseen.  How  small  and 
poor  the  cottages  looked  —  but  how  home-like  !  and 
how  sweet  the  smoke  of  their  chimneys  !  How  cold 
they  must  be  in  winter — but  how  warm  were  the 
hearts  inside  them  !  There  was  Jean  Elder's  Sunday 
linen  spread  like  snow  on  her  gooseberry  bushes ; 


HOME   AGAIN.  473 


there  was  the  shoemaker's  cow  eating  her  hardest,  as 
if  she  would  devour  the  very  turf  that  made  a  border 
to  the  road  —  held  from  the  corn  on  the  other  side  of 
the  low  fence  by  a  strong  chain  in  the  hand  of  a  child 
of  seven  ;  and  there  was  the  first  dahlia  of  the  season 
in  Jonathan  Japp's  garden !  As  he  entered  the 
village,  the  road,  which  was  at  once  its  street  and  the 
queen's  highway,  was  empty  of  life  save  for  one  half- 
grown  pig  —  "prospecting,"  a  hen  or  two  picking 
about,  and  several  cats  that  lay  in  the  sun.  "  There 
must  be  some  redemption  for  the  feline  races," 
thought  Cosmo,  "when  the  cats  have  learned  so 
much  to  love  the  sun  !  —  But,  alas  !  it  is  only  his  heat, 
not  his  light  they  love !  "  He  looked  neither  on  this 
side  nor  that  as  he  walked,  for  he  was  in  no  mood 
for  the  delay  of  converse,  but  he  wondered  neverthe- 
less that  he  saw  nobody.  It  was  the  general  dinner 
hour,  true,  but  that  would  scarcely  account  for  the 
deserted  look  of  the  street !  Any  passing  stranger 
was  usually  enough  to  bring  people  to  their  doors  — 
their  windows  not  being  of  much  use  for  looking  out 
of !  Sheltered  behind  rose-trees  or  geraniums  or 
hydrangeas,  however,  not  a  few  of  whom  he  saw 
nothing  were  peering  at  him  out  of  those  windows  as 
he  passed. 

The  villagers  had  learned  from  some  one  on  the 
coach  that  the  young  laird  was  coming.  But,  strange 
to  say,  a  feeling  had  got  abroad  amongst  them  to  his 
prejudice.  They  had  looked  to  hear  great  things  of 
their  favourite,  but  he  had  not  made  the  success  they 
expected,  and  from  their  disappointment  they  imag- 
ined his  blame.     It  troubled  them  to  think  of  the  old 


474  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

man,  whom  they  all  honoured,  sending  his  son  to  col- 
lege on  the  golden  horse,  whose  history  had  ever 
since  been  the  cherished  romance  of  the  place,  and 
after  all  getting  no  good  of  him !  so  when  they  saw 
him  coming  along,  dusty  and  shabby  —  not  so  well 
dressed  indeed  as  would  have  contented  one  of  them- 
selves on  a  Sunday,  they  drew  back  from  their  peep- 
holes with  a  sigh,  let  him  pass,  and  then  looked 
again. 

Nothing  of  all  this  however  did  Cosmo  suspect,  but 
held  on  his  way  unconscious  of  the  regards  that  pur- 
sued him  as  a  prodigal  returning  the  less  satisfac- 
torily that  he  had  not  been  guilty  enough  to  repent. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


THE    SHADOW    OF    DEATH. 


Every  step  Cosmo  took  after  leaving  the  village, 
was  like  a  revelation  and  a  memory  in  one.  When 
he  turned  out  of  the  main  road,  the  hills  came  rush- 
ing to  meet  and  welcome  him,  yet  it  was  only  that 
they  stood  there  changeless,  eternally  the  same,  just 
as  they  had  been  :  that  was  the  welcome  with  which 
they  met  the  heart  that  had  always  loved  them. 

When  first  he  opened  his  eyes,  they  were  as  the 
nursing  arms  the  world  spread  out  to  take  him ;  and 
now,  returning  from  the  far  countries  where  they  were 
unknown,  they  spread  them  out  afresh  to  receive  him 
home.  The  next  turn  was  home  itself,  for  that  turn 
was  at  the  base  of  the  ridge  on  which  the  castle  stood. 

The  moment  he  took  it,  a  strange  feeling  of  still- 
ness came  over  him,  and  as  he  drew  nearer,  it  deep- 
ened. When  he  entered  the  gate  of  the  close,  it  was 
a  sense,  and  had  grown  almost  appalling.  With 
sudden  inroad  his  dream  returned  !  Was  the  place 
empty  utterly  ?     Was  there  no  life  in  it  ?     Not  yet 

475 


476  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

had  he  heard  a  sound  ;  there  was  no  sign  from  cow- 
house or  stable.  A  cart  with  one  wheel  stood  in  the 
cart-shed ;  a  harrow  lay,  spikes  upward,  where  he  had 
hollowed  the  mound  of  snow.  The  fields  themselves 
had  an  unwonted,  a  haggard  sort  of  look.  A  crop  of 
oats  was  ripening  in  that  nearest  the  close,  but  they 
covered  only  the  half  of  it :  the  rest  was  in  potatoes, 
and  amongst  them,  sole  show  of  labour  or  life,  he  saw 
Aggie  :  she  was  pulling  the  plums  off  their  stems. 
The  doors  were  shut  all  round  the  close  —  all  but  the 
kitchen-door;  that  stood  as  usual  wide  open.  A 
sickening  fear  came  upon  Cosmo  :  it  was  more  than  a 
week  since  he  had  heard  from  home !  In  that  time 
his  father  might  be  dead,  and  therefore  the  place  be 
so  desolate !  He  dared  not  enter  the  house.  He 
would  go  first  into  the  garden,  and  there  pray,  and 
gather  courage. 

He  went  round  the  kitchen-tower,  as  the  nearest 
block  was  called,  and  made  for  his  old  seat,  the  big, 
smooth  stone.  Some  one  was  sitting  there,  with  his 
head  bent  forward  on  his  knees  !  By  the  red  night- 
cap it  must  be  his  father,  but  how  changed  the  whole 
aspect  of  the  good  man!  His  look  was  that  of  a 
worn-out  labourer — one  who  has  borne  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,  and  is  already  half  asleep,  wait- 
ing for  the  night.  Motionless  as  a  statue  of  weari- 
ness he  sat ;  on  the  ground  lay  a  spade  which  looked 
as  if  it  had  dropped  from  his  hand  as  he  sat  upon  the 
stone;  and  beside  him  on  that  lay  his  Marion's 
Bible.  Cosmo's  heart  sank  within  him,  and  for  a 
moment  he  stood  motionless. 

But  the  first  movement  he  made  forward,  the  old 


THE   SHADOW    OF    DEATH.  477 

man  lifted  his  head  with  an  expectant  look,  then  rose 
in  haste,  and,  unable  to  straighten  himself,  hurried, 
stooping,  with  short  steps,  to  meet  him.  Placing  his 
hands  on  his  son's  shoulders,  he  raised  himself  up, 
and  laid  his  face  to.  his ;  then  for  a  few  moments  they 
were  silent,  each  in  the  other's  arms. 

The  laird  drew  back  his  head  and  looked  his  son 
in  the  face.  A  heavenly  smile  crossed  the  sadness  of 
his  countenance,  and  his  wrinkled  old  hand  closed 
tremulous  on  Cosmo's  shoulder. 

"They  canna  tak  frae  me  my  son ! "  he  murmured — 
and  from  that  time  rarely  spoke  to  him  save  in  the 
mother-tongue. 

Then  he  led  him  to  the  stone,  where  there  was  just 
room  enough  for  two  that  loved  each  other,  and  they 
sat  down  together. 

The  laird  put  his  hand  on  his  son's  knee,  as,  when 
a  boy,  Cosmo  used  to  put  his  on  his  father's. 

"Are  ye  the  same,  Cosmo.?"  he  asked.  "Are  ye 
my  ain  bairn  ?  " 

"Father,"  returned  Cosmo,  "gien  it  be  possible,  I 
loe  ye  mair  nor  ever.  I'm  come  hame  to  ye,  no  to 
lea'  ye  again  sae  lang  as  ye  live.  Gien  ye  be  in  ony 
want,  I  s'  better  't  gien  I  can,  an'  share  't  ony  gait. 
Ay,  I  may  weel  say  I'm  the  same,  only  mair  o'  't." 

"The  Lord's  name  be  praist!"  murmured  the  laird. 
" — But  du  ye  loe  him  the  same  as  ever,  Cosmo?'* 
again  he  asked. 

"Father,  I  dinna  loe  him  the  same — I  loe  him  a 
heap  better.  He  kens  noo  'at  he  may  tak  his  wull  o' 
me.    Naething'  at  I  ken  o'  comes  'atween  him  an'  me." 

The  old  man  raised  his  arm,  and  put  it  round  his 


478  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

boy's  shoulders :  he  was  not  one  of  the  many  Scotch 
fathers  who  make  their  children  fear  more  than  love 
them. 

"Then,  Lord,  let  me  die  in  peace,"  he  said,  "for 
mine  eyes  hae  seen  thy  salvation!  —  But  ye  dinna 
luik  freely  the  same,  Cosmo!  —  Hoo  is  't  ?  " 

"I  hae  come  throuw  a  heap,  lately,  father,"  an- 
swered Cosmo.  "  I  hae  been  ailin'  in  body,  an'  sair 
harassed  in  hert.  I'll  tell  ye  a'  aboot  it,  whan  we  hae 
time  —  and  o'  that  we'll  hae  plenty,  I  s'  warran',  for  I 
tell  ye  I  winna  lea'  ye  again ;  an'  gien  ye  had  only 
latten  me  ken  ye  was  failin',  I  wad  hae  come  hame 
lang  syne.  It  was  sair  agen  the  grain  'at  I  baid 
awa'." 

"The  auld  sudna  lie  upo'  the  tap  o'  the  yoong, 
Cosmo,  my  son." 

"  Father,  I  wad  willin'ly  be  a  bed  to  ye  to  lie  upo', 
gien  that  wad  ease  ye ;  but  I'm  thinkin'  we  baith  may 
lie  saft  upo'  the  wull  o'  the  great  Father,  e'en  whan 
that's  hardest." 

"True  as  trowth  !  "  returned  the  laird.  " — But 
ye're  luikin'  some  tired-like,  Cosmo ! " 

"  I  am  some  tired,  an'  unco  dry.  I  wad  fain  hae  a 
drink  o'  milk." 

The  old  man's  head  dropped  again  on  his  bosom, 
and  so  for  the  space  of  about  a  minute  he  sat. 
Then  he  lifted  it  up,  and  said,  looking  with  calm 
clear  eyes  in  those  of  his  son, 

"  I  winna  greit,  Cosmo ;  I'll  say  yet^  the  will  o'  the 
Lord  be  dune,  though  it  be  sair  upo'  me  the  noo, 
whan  I  haena  a  drap  o'  milk  aboot  the  place  to  set 
afore  my  only-begotten  son  whan  he  comes  hame  to 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.  479 

me  frae  a  far  country  !  —  Eh,  Lord  !  whan  yer  ain  son 
cam  hame  frae  his  sair  warstle  an'  lang  sojourn  amo' 
them  'at  kenned  na  him  nor  thee,  it  wasna  til  an  auld 
shabby  man  he  cam  hame,  but  til  the  Lord  o'  glory 
an'  o'  micht !  An'  whan  we  a'  win  hame  til  the 
Father  o'  a',  it'll  be  to  the  leevin'  stren'th  o'  the  uni- 
verse.—  Cosmo,  the  han'  o'  man  's  been  that  heavy 
upo'  me  'at  coo  efter  coo's  gane  frae  me,  an'  the  last 
o'  them,  bonny  Yally,  left  only  thestreen.  Ye'll  hae 
to  drink  cauld  watter,  my  bairn !  " 

Again  the  old  man's  heart  overcame  him  ;  his  head 
sank,  and  he  murmured,  —  "  Lord,  I  haena  a  drap  o' 
milk  to  gie  my  bairn  —  me  'at  wad  gie  'im  my  hert's 
bluid  !  But,  Lord,  wha  am  I  to  speyk  like  that  to 
thee,  wha  didst  lat  thine  ain  poor  oot  his  verra  sowl's 
bluid  for  him  an'  me  !  " 

"  Father,"  said  Cosmo,  "  I  can  du  wi'  watter  as 
weel's  onybody.  Du  ye  think  I'm  nae  mair  o'  a  man 
nor  to  care  what  I  pit  intil  me  ?  Gien  ye  be  puirer 
nor  ever,  I'm  prooder  nor  ever  to  share  wi'  ye.  Bide 
ye  here,  an'  I'll  jist  rin  an'  get  a  drink,  an'  come 
back  to  ye." 

"Na;  I  maun  gang  wi'  ye,  man,"  answered  the 
lair-d,  rising.  "  Grizzle's  a  heap  taen  up  wi'  yer  gran'- 
mither.  She's  been  weirin'  awa'  this  fortnicht  back. 
She's  no  in  pain,  the  Lord  be  praised  !  an'  she'll 
never  ken  the  straits  her  hoose  is  com  till !  Cosmo,  I 
hae  been  a  terrible  cooard  —  dreidin'  day  an'  nicht 
yer  hame-comin',  no  submittin'  'at  ye  sud  see  sic  a 
broken  man  to  the  father  o'  ye  !  But  noo  it's  ower, 
an'  here  ye  are,  an'  my  hert's  lichter  nor  it's  been  this 
mony  a  lang !  " 


480  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Cosmo's  own  sorrow  drew  back  into  the  distance 
from  before  the  face  of  his  father's,  and  he  felt  that 
the  business,  not  the  accident  of  his  life,  must  hence- 
forth be  to  support  and  comfort  him.  And  with  that 
it  was  as  if  a  new  well  of  life  sprung  up  suddenly  in 
his  being. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  we'll  hand  on  thegither  i'  the 
stret  ro'd.  There's  room  for  twa  abreist  in  't  — 
ance  ye're  in  !  " 

"  Ay  !  ay  !  "  returned  the  laird  with  a  smile  ;  "  that's 
the  bonniest  word  ye  cud  hae  come  hame  wi'  til  me ! 
We  maun  jist  perk  up  a  bit,  an'  be  patient,  that  pa- 
tience may  hae  her  perfe't  wark.  I  s'  hae  anither  try 
—  an'  weel  I  may,  for  the  licht  o'  my  auld  e'en  is  this 
day  restored  til  me  !  " 

"  An'  sae  gran'mother's  weirin  awa',  father !  " 

"  To  the  Ian'  o'  the  leal,  laddie." 

"  Wull  she  ken  me  ?  " 

"  Na,  she  winna  ken  ye  ;  she'll  never  ken  onybody 
mair  i'  this  warl' ;  but  she'll  ken  plenty  whaur  she's 
gaein'  ! " 

He  rose,  and  they  walked  together  towards  the 
kitchen.  There  was  nobody  there,  but  they  heard 
steps  going  to  and  fro  in  the  room  above.  The 
laird  made  haste,  but  before  he  could  lay  his  hand 
on  a  vessel,  to  get  for  Cosmo  the  water  he  so  much 
desired,  Grizzie  appeared  on  the  stair,  descending. 
She  hurried  down,  and  across  the  floor  to  Cosmo, 
and  seizing  him  by  the  hand,  looked  him  in  the  face 
with  the  anxiety  of  an  angel-hen.  Her  look  said 
what  his. father's  voice  had  said  just  before  —  "Are 
ye  a'  there  — a'  'at  there  used  to  be  ?  " 


THE   SHADOW    OF    DEATH.  48 1 

"  Hoo's  gran'mamma?  "  asked  Cosmo. 

"  Ow,  duin'  weel  eneuch,  sir  —  weirin  awa'  bonny. 
She  has  naither  pang  nor  knowledge  o*  sorrow  to 
tribble  her.  The  Lord  grant  the  sowls  o'  's  a'  sic 
anither  lowsin' ! " 

"  Hae  ye  naething  better  nor  cauld  watter  to  gie 
Mm  a  drink  o',  Grizzie,  wuman  ?  "  asked  the  laird, 
but  in  mere  despair. 

"  Nae  'cep  he  wad  condescen'  til  a  grainie  meal 
intil  't,"  returned  Grizzie  mournfully,  and  she  looked 
at  him  again,  with  an  anxious  deprecating  look  now, 
as  if  before  the  heir  she  was  ashamed  of  the  poverty 
of  the  house,  and  dreaded  blame.  "  —  But  laird,"  she 
resumed,  turning  to  her  master,  "  ye  hae  surely  a 
drap  o'  something  i'  yer  cellar !  Weel  I  wat  ye  hae 
made  awa'  wi'  nane  o'  't  yersel !  " 

"Weel,  there  ye  wat  wrang,  Grizzie,  my  bonnr 
wuman  ! "  replied  the  laird,  with  the  flicker  of  a  hu 
mourous  smile  on  his  wrinkled  face,  "for  I  sellt  the 
last  bottle  oot  o'  't  a  month  ago  to  Stronach  o'  the 
distillery,  i  thought  it  cudna  du  muckle  ill  there, 
for  it  wadna  make  his  nose  sae  reid  as  his  ain 
whusky.  Whaur,  think  ye,  wad  the  sma'  things  ye 
wantit  for  my  mother  hae  come  frae,  gien  I  hadna 
happent  to  hae  that  property  left  ?  We're  weel  taen 
care  o',  ye  see,  Grizzie  !  That  wad  hae  tried  my 
faith,  to  hae  my  mother  gang  wi'oot  things  !  But  he 
never  suffers  us  to  be  tried  ayont  what  we're  able  to 
beir;  an'  sae  lang  as  my  faith  bauds  the  grup,  I 
carena  for  back  nor  belly  !  Cosmo,  I  can  bide  bet- 
ter 'at  ye  sud  want.  Ye're  mair  like  my  ain  nor  even 
my  mother,  an'  sae  we  bide   it  thegither.      It  maun 


482  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

be  'cause  ye're  pairt  o'  my  Mar'on  as  weel  's  o' 
mysel'.  Eh,  man !  but  this  o'  faimilies  is  a  won- 
'erfu'  Godlike  contrivance  !  Gien  he  had-  taen  ony 
ither  w'y  o'  makin'  fowk,  whaur  wad  I  hae  been  this 
day  wantin'  you,  Cosmo  ?  " 

While  he  spoke,  Cosmo  was  drinking  the  water 
Grizzie  had  brought  him  —  with  a  little  meal  on  the 
top  of  it  —  the  same  drink  he  used  to  give  his  old 
mare,  now  long  departed  to  the  place  prepared  for 
her,  when  they  were  out  spending  the  day  together. 

"There's  this  to  be  said  for  the- watter,  father,"  he 
remarked,  as  he  set  down  the  wooden  bowl  in  which 
Grizzie  had  thought  proper  to  supply  it,  "  that  it 
comes  mair  direc'  frae  the  han'  o'  God  himsel'  — 
maybe  nor  even  the  milk.  But  I  dinna  ken  ;  for  I 
doobt  organic  chemistry  maun  efter  a'  be  nearer  his 
han'  nor  inorganic  !  Ony  gait,  I  never  drank  better 
drink ;  an'  gien  ae  day  he  but  saitisfee  my  sowl's 
hunger  efter  his  richteousness  as  he  has  this  minute 
saitisfeed  my  body's  drowth  efter  watter.  Is'  be  a 
happier  man  nor  ever  sat  still  ohn  danced  an' 
sung." 

"  It's  an  innocent  cratur'  at  gies  thanks  for  cauld 
watter  —  I  hae  aye  remarkit  that ! "  said  Grizzie. 
"  But  I  maun  awa'  to  my  bairn  up  the  stair ;  an' 
may  it  please  the  Lord  to  lift  her  or  lang,  for  they 
maun  be  luikin  for  her  yont  the  burn  by  this  time. 
Whan  she  wauks  i'  the  mornin',  the'  'ill  be  nae  mair 
scornin' ! " 

This  was  Grizzie's  last  against  her  mistress.  The 
laird  took  no  notice  of  it :  he  knew  Grizzie's  devo- 
tion, and,  well  as  he  loved    his    mother,  could    not 


THE    SHADOW    OF    DEATH.  483 

but  know  also  that  there  was  some  ground  for  her  un- 
devised couplet. 

Scarcely  a  minute  had  passed  when  the  voice  of 
the  old  woman  came  from  the  top  of  the  stair,  calling 
aloud  and  in  perturbation, 

"  Laird !  laird  !  come  up  direc'ly.  Come  up,  lairds 
baith  !     She's  comin'  til  hersel' !  " 

They  hastened  up,  Cosmo  helping  his  father,  and 
approached  the  bed  together. 

With  smooth,  colourless  face,  unearthly  to  look 
upon,  the  old  lady  lay  motionless,  her  eyes  wide  open, 
looking  up  as  if  they  saw  something  beyond  the 
tester  of  the  bed,  her  lips  moving,  but  uttering  no 
sound.  At  last  came  a  murmur,  in  which  Cosmo's 
ears  alone  were  keen  enough  to  discern  the  articula- 
tion. 

"  Mar'on,  Mar'on,"  she  said,  "  ye're  i'  the  Ian'  o' 
forgiveness  !  I  hae  dune  the  lad  no  ill.  He'll  come 
hame  to  ye  nane  the  waur  for  ony  words  o'  mine. 
We're  no'  a'  made  sae  guid  to  begin  wi'  as  yersel', 
Mar'on ! " 

Here  her  voice  became  a  mere  murmur,  so  far  as 
human  ears  could  distinguish,  and  presently  ceased. 
A  minute  or  so  more  and  her  breathing  grew  inter- 
mittent. After  a  few  long  respirations,  at  long  inter- 
vals, it  stopped. 

"  She'll  be  haein'  't  oot  wi'  my  ain  mistress  or 
lang ! "  remarked  Grizzle  to  herself  as  she  closed  her 
eyes. 

"  Mother !  mother  !  "  cried  the  laird,  and  kneeled 
by  the  bedside.  Cosmo  kneeled  also,  but  no  word 
of  the  prayers  that  ascended  was  audible.     The  laird 


484  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

was  giving  thanks  that  another  was  gone  home,  and 
Cosmo  was  praying  for  help  to  be  to  his  father  a  true 
son,  such  as  the  Son  of  Man  was  to  the  Father  of 
Man.  They  rose  from  their  knees,  and  went  quietly 
down  the  stair;  and  as  they  went  from  the  room, 
they  heard  Grizzle  say  to  herself, 

"She's  gang  whaur  there's  malr — eneuch  an'  to 
spare ! " 

The  remains  of  Lady  Joan's  ten  pounds  was  enough 
to  bury  her. 

They  Invited  none,  but  all  the  village  came  to  her 
funeral, 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE    LABOURER. 

Such  power  had  been  accumulated  and  brought  to 
bear  against  Glenwarlock,  that  at  length  he  was  re- 
duced almost  to  the  last  extremity.  He  had  had  to 
part  with  his  horses  before  even  his  crops  were  all 
sown,  and  had  therefore  dismissed  his  men,  and  tried 
to  sell  what  there  was  as  it  stood,  and  get  some 
neighbouring  farmer  to  undertake  the  rest  of  the  land 
for  the  one  harvest  left  him ;  but  those  who  might 
otherwise  have  bought  and  cultivated  were  afraid  of 
offending  Lord  Lick-my-loof,  whose  hand  was  pretty 
generally  seen  in  the  turn  of  affairs,  and  also  of  in- 
volving themselves  in  an  unsecure  agreement.  So 
things  had  come  to  a  bad  pass  with  the  laird  and  his 
household.  A  small  crop  of  oats  and  one  of  potatoes 
were  coming  on,  for  which  the  laird  did  what  little  he 
could,  assisted  b}'  Grizzie  and  Aggie  at  such  times 
when  they  could  leave  their  respective  charges,  but  in 
the  meantime  the  stock  of  meal  was  getting  low,  and 
the  laird  did  not  see  where  more  was  to  come  from. 
48s 


486  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

He  and  Grizzle  had  only  porridge,  with  a  little  salt 
butter,  for  two,  and  not  unfrequently  the  third  also  of 
their  daily  meals.  Grizzle  for  awhile  managed  to 
keep  alive  a  few  fowls  that  picked  about  everywhere, 
finally  making  of  them  broth  for  her  invalid,  and  per- 
suading the  laird  to  eat  the  little  that  was  not  boiled 
away,  till  at  length  there  was  neither  cackle  nor  crow 
about  the  place,  so  that  to  Cosmo  it  seemed  dying 
out  into  absolute  silence  —  after  which  would  come 
the  decay  and  the  crumbling,  until  the  castle  stood 
like  the  great  hollow  mammoth-tooth  he  had  looked 
down  upon  in  his  dream. 

At  once  he  proceeded  to  do  what  little  could  yet 
be  done  for  the  on-coming  crops,  resolving  to  hire 
himself  out  for  the  harvest  to  some  place  later  than 
Glenwarlock,  so  that  he  might  be  able  to  mow  the 
oats  before  leaving,  when  his  father  and  Grizzle  with 
the  help  of  Aggie  would  secure  them. 

Nothing  could  now  prevent  the  closing  of  the  net 
of  the  last  mortgage  about  them ;  and  the  uttermost 
Cosmo  could  hope  for  thereafter  was  simply  to  keep 
his  father  and  Grizzle  alive  to  the  end  of  their 
natural  days.  Shelter  was  secure,  for  the  castle  was 
free.  The.  winter  was  drawing  on,  but  there  would 
be  the  oats  and  the  potatoes,  with  what  kail  the 
garden  would  yield  them,  and  they  had,  he  thought, 
plenty  of  peats.  Yet  not  unfrequently,  as  he  wan- 
dered aimless  through  the  dreary  silehce,  he  would 
be  speculating  how  long,  by  a  judiciously  ordered 
consumption  of  the  place,  he  could  keep  his  father 
warm.  The  stables  and  cow-houses  would  afford  a 
large  quantity  of  fuel  ;  the  barn  too  had  a  great  deal 


THE    LABOURER.  487 


of  heavy  wood-work  about  it ;  and  there  was  the  third 
tower  or  block  of  the  castle,  for  many  years  used  for 
nothing  but  stowage,  whose  whole  thick  floors  he 
would  thankfully  honour,  burning  them  to  ashes  in 
such  a  cause.  In  the  spring  there  would  be  no  land 
left  them,  but  so  long  as  he  could  save  the  house  and 
garden,  and  find  means  of  keeping  his  two  alive  in 
them,  he  would  not  grieve  over  that. 

Agnes  was  a  little  shy  of  Cosmo  —  he  had  been 
away  so  long  !  but  at  intervals  her  shyness  would 
yield  and  she  would  talk  to  him  with  much  the  same 
freedom  as  of  old  when  they  went  to  school  together. 
In  his  rambles  Cosmo  would  not  pass  her  grand- 
father's cottage  without  going  in  to  inquire  after  him 
and  his  wife,  and  having  a  little  chat  with  Aggie. 
Her  true-hearted  ways  made  her,  next  to  his  father 
and  Mr.  Simon,  the  best  comforter  he  had. 

She  was  now  a  strong,  well-grown,  sunburnt 
woman,  with  rough  hands  and  tender  eyes.  Occa- 
sionally she  would  yet  give  a  sharp  merry  answer,  but 
life  and  its  needs  and  struggles  had  made  her  grave, 
and  in  general  she  would,  like  a  soft  cloud,  brood  a 
little  before  she  gave  a  reply.  She  had  by  nature 
such  a  well  balanced  mind,  and  had  set  herself 
so  strenuously  to  do  the  right  thing,  that  her  cross 
seemed  already  her  natural  choice,  as  indeed  it 
always  is  —  of  the  deeper  nature.  In  her  Cosmo 
always  found  what  strengthened  him  for  the  life  he 
had  now  to  lead,  though,  so  long  as  at  any  hour  he 
could  have  his  father's  company,  and  saw  the  old 
man  plainly  reviving  in  his  presence,  he  could  not  for 
a  moment  call  or  think  it  hard,  save  in  so  far  as  he 


488  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCis. 

could  not  make    his    father's    as   easy  as  he  would. 

When  the  laird  heard  that  his  son,  the  heir  of  Glen- 
warlock,  had  hired  himself  for  the  harvest  on  a  neigh- 
bouring farm,  he  was  dumb  for  a  season.  It  was 
heavy  both  on  the  love  and  the  pride  of  the  father, 
which  in  this  case  were  one,  to  think  of  his  son  as  a 
hired  servant  —  and  that  of  a  rough,  swearing  man, 
who  had  made  money  as  a  butcher.  The  farm  too 
was  at  such  distance  that  he  could  not  well  come 
home  to  sleep  !  But  the  season  of  this  dumbness, 
measured  by  the  clock,  at  least,  was  but  of  a  few  min- 
utes duration  ;  for  presently  the  laird  was  on  his  knees 
thanking  God  that  he  had  given  him  a  son  who 
would  be  an  honour  to  any  family  out  of  heaven :  in 
there,  he  knew,  every  one  was  an  honour  to  every 
other ! 

Before  the  harvest  on  the  farm  of  Stanewhuns 
arrived,  Cosmo,  to  his  desire,  had  cut  their  own  corn, 
with  Grizzle  to  gather,  Aggie  to  bind,  and  his  father 
to  stock,  and  so  got  himself  into  some  measure  of 
training.  He  found  it  harder,  it  is  true,  at  Stane- 
whuns, where  he  must  keep  up  with  more  experienced 
scythe-men,  but,  just  equal  to  it  at  first,  in  two  days 
he  was  little  more  than  equal,  and  able  to  set  his 
father's  heart  at  ease  concerning  his  toil. 

With  all  his  troubles,  it  had  been  a  blessed  time  so 
long  as  he  spent  most  of  the  day  and  every  even- 
ing in  his  father's  company.  Not  unfrequently  would 
Mr.  Simon  make  one,  seated  with  them  in  the  old 
drawing-room  or  on  some  hillside,  taking  wisest  share 
in  every  subject  of  talk  that  came  up.  In  the  little 
council  Cosmo  represented  the  rising  generation  with 


THE    LABOURER.  489 


its  new  thought,  its  new  consciousness  of  need,  and 
its  new  difficulties;  and  was  delighted  to  find  how 
readily  his  notions  were  received,  how  far  from  strange 
they  were  to  his  old-fashioned  friends,  especially  his 
preceptor,  and  how  greatly  true  wisdom  suffices  for 
the  hearing  and  understanding  of  new  cries  after  the 
truth.  For  what  all  men  need  is  the  same — only  the 
look  of  it  changes  as  its  nature  expands  before  the 
growing  soul  or  the  growing  generation,  whose  hunger 
and  thirst  at  the  same  time  grow  with  it.  And,  com- 
ing from  the  higher  to  the  lower,  it  must  be  ever  in 
the  shape  of  difficulty  that  the  most  precious  revela- 
tions first  appear.  Even  Mary,  to  whom  first  the 
highest  revelation  came,  and  came  closer  than  to 
any  other,  had  to  sit  and  ponder  over  the  great  mat- 
ter, yea  and  have  the  sword  pass  through  her  soul, 
ere  the  thoughts  of  her  heart  could  be  revealed  to  her. 
But  Cosmo  of  the  new  time,  found  himself  at  home 
with  the  men  of  the  next  older  time,  because  both 
he  and  they  were  true ;  for  in  the  truth  there  is 
neither  old  nor  new ;  the  well  instructed  scribe  of  the 
kingdom  is  familiar  with  the  new  as  well  as  old 
shapes  of  it,  and  can  bring  either  kind  from  his  treas- 
ury. There  was  not  a  question  Cosmo  could  start, 
but  Mr.  Simon  had  something  at  hand  to  the  point,  and 
plenty  more  within  digging-scope  of  his  thought-spade. 
But  now  that  he  had  to  work  all  day,  and  at  night 
see  no  one  with  whom  to  take  sweet  counsel,  Cosmo 
did  feel  lonely  —  yet  was  it  an  unfailing  comfort  to 
remember  that  his  father  was  within  his  reach,  and  he 
would  see  him  the  next  Sunday.  And  the  one  thing 
he  had  dreaded  was  spared  him  —  namely,  having  to 


49°  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

share  a  room  with  several  other  men,  who  might  prove 
worse  than  undesirable  company.  For  the  ex-butcher, 
the  man  who  was  a  byword  in  the  country-side  for  his 
rough  speech,  in  this  showed  himself  capable  of  be- 
coming a  gentleman,  that  he  had  sympathy  with  a 
gentleman  :  he  would  neither  allow  Cosmo  to  eat 
with  the  labourers — to  which  Cosmo  himself  had  no 
objection,  nor  would  hear  of  his  sleeping  anywhere 
but  in  the  best  bedroom  they  had  in  the  house.  Also, 
from  respect  to  the  heir  of  a  decayed  family  and  val- 
ueless inheritance,  he  modified  even  his  own  habits 
so  far  as  almost  to  cease  swearing  in  his  presence. 
Appreciating  this  genuine  kindness,  Cosmo  in  his 
turn  tried  to  be  agreeable  to.  those  around  him,  and 
in  their  short  evenings,  for,  being  weary,  they  retired 
early,  would  in  his  talk  make  such  good  use  of  his 
superior  knowledge  as  to  interest  the  whole  family, 
so  that  afterwards  most  of  them  declared  it  thepleas- 
antest  harvest-time  they  had  ever  had.  Perhaps  it 
was  a  consequence  that  the  youngest  daughter,  who* 
had  been  to  a  boarding-school,  and  had  never  before 
appeared  in  any  harvest-field,  betook  herself  to  that 
in  which  they  were  at  work  towards  the  end  of  the 
first  week,  and  gathered  behind  Cosmo's  scythe.  But 
Cosmo  was  far  too  much  occupied  —  thinking  to  the 
rhythmic  swing  of  his  scythe,  to  be  aware  of  the 
honour  done  him.  Still  farther  was  he  from  suspect- 
ing that  it  had  anything  to  do  with  the  appearing  of 
Agnes  one  afternoon,  bringing  him  a  letter  from  his 
father,  with  which  she  had  armed  herself  by  telling 
him  she  was  going  thitherward,  and  could  take  a  mes- 
sage to  the  young  laird. 


THE    LABOURER. 


491 


The  harvest  began  upon  a  Monday,  and  the  week 
passed  without  his  once  seeing  his  father.  On  the 
Sunday  he  rose  early,  and  set  out  for  Castle  War- 
lock. He  would  have  gone  the  night  before,  but  at 
the  request  of  his  master  remained  to  witness  the 
signing  of  his  will.  As  he  walked  he  found  the 
week  had  given  him  such  a  consciousness  of  power 
as  he  had  never  had  before :  with  the  labour  of  his 
own  hands  he  knev/  himself  capable  of  earning  bread 
for  more  than  himself ;  while  his  limbs  themselves 
seemed  to  know  themselves  stronger  than  hitherto. 
On  the  other  hand  he  was  conscious  in  his  gait  of 
the  intrusion  of  the  workman's  plodding  swing  upon 
the  easy  walk  of  the  student. 

His  way  was  mostly  by  footpaths,  often  up  and 
down  hill,  now  over  a  moor,  now  through  a  valley  by 
a  small  stream.  The  freshness  of  the  morning  he 
found  no  less  reviving  than  in  the  old  boyish  days, 
and  sang  as  he  walked,  taking  huge  breaths  of  the 
life  that  lay  on  the  heathery  hill-top.  And  as  he 
sang  the  words  came  —  nearly  like  the  following. 
He  had  never  wondered  at  the  powers  of  the  im- 
provvisatore.     It  was  easy  to  him  to  extemporize. 

Win'  that  blaws  the  simmer  plaid, 
Ower  the  hie  hill's  shouthers  laid, 
Green  wi'  gerse,  an'  reid  wi'  heather, 
Welcome  wi'  yer  soul-like  weather  I 
Mony  a  win'  there  has  been  sent 
Oot  'ancth  the  firmament ; 
Ilka  ane  its  story  has ; 
Ilka  ane  began  an'  was ; 
Ilka  ane  fell  quaiet  an'  mute 


492  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


Whan  its  angel  wark  was  oot. 
First  gaed  ane  oot  ower  the  mirk, 
Whan  the  maker  gan  to  work; 
Ower  it  gaed  and  ower  the  sea, 
An'  the  warl'  begud  to  be. 
Mony  ane  has  come  an'  gane 
Sin'  the  time  there  was  but  ane : 
Ane  was  great  an'  strong,  an'  rent 
Rocks  an'  mountains  as  it  went 
Afore  the  Lord,  his  trumpeter, 
Waukin'  up  the  prophet's  ear; 
Ane  was  like  a  steppin'  soun' 
I'  the  mulberry  taps  abune ; 
Them  the  Lord's  ain  steps  did  swing* 
Walkin'  on  afore  his  king ; 
Ane  lay  doon  like  scoldit  pup 
At  his  feet  an'  gatna  up. 
Whan  the  word  the  maister  spak 
Drave  the  wull-cat  billows  back; 
Ane  gaed  frae  his  lips,  an'  dang 
To  the  earth  the  sodger  thrang ; 
Ane  comes  frae  his  hert  to  mine, 
Ilka  day,  to  mak  it  fine. 
Breath  o'  God,  eh !  come  an'  blaw 
Frae  my  hert  ilk  fog  awa' ; 
Wauk  me  up,  an'  mak  me  Strang, 
Fill  my  hert  wi'  mony  a  sang, 
Frae  my  lips  again  to  stert, 
Fillin'  sails  o'  mony  -a.  hert, 
Blawin'  them  ower  seas  dividin* 
To  the  only  place  to  bide  in. 


"  Eh,  Mr.  Warlock !  is  that  you  singin'  o*  the 
Sawbath  day.?"  said  the  voice  of  a  young  woman 
behind  him,  in  a  tone  of  gentle  raillery  rather  than 
expostulation. 


THE    LABOURER. 


493 


Cosmo  turned  and  saw  Elspeth,  his  master's 
daughter  already  mentioned. 

"  Whaur's  the  wrang  o'  that,  Miss  Elsie  ? "  he 
answered.  "  Arena  we  tellt  to  sing  an'  mak  melody 
to  the  Lord  ?  " 

"  Ay,  but  i'  yer  hert,  no  lood  oot  —  'cep'  it  be  i' 
the  kirk.  That's  the  place  to  sing  upo'  Sundays. 
Yon  wasna  a  psalm-tune  ye  was  at !  " 

"Maybe  no.  jlaybe  I  was  a  bi^  ower  happy  for 
ony  tune  i'  the  tune-buiks,  an'  bude  to  hae  ane  'at 
earn  o'  'tsel'  ! " 

"  An'  what  wad  mak  ye  sae  happy — gien  a  body 
micht  speir  ?  "  asked  Elspeth,  peeping  from  under 
long  lashes,  with  a  shy,  half  frightened,  sidelong 
glance  at  the  youth. 

She  was  a  handsome  girl  of  the  milkmaid  type, 
who  wore  a  bonnet  with  pretty  ribbons,  thought  of 
herself  as  a  young  lady,  and  had  many  admirers, 
whence  she  had  grown  a  little  bold,  without  knowing 
it. 

"Ye  haena  ower  muckle  at  hame  to  make  ye 
blithe,  gien  a'  be  true,"  she  added  sympatheticall)^ 

"  I  hae  a'thing  at  hame  to  make  me  blithe  —  'cep' 
it  be  a  wheen  mair  siller,"  answered  Cosmo  ;  "  but 
maybe  that'll  come  neist  —  wha  kens  ?  " 

"  Ay  !  wha  kens  ? "  returned  the  girl  with  a  sigh. 
"  There's  mony  ane  doobtless  wad  be  ready  eneuch 
wi'  the  siller  anent  what  ye  hae  wantin'  't !  " 

"  I  hae  naething  but  an  auld  hoose  —  no  sae  auld 
as  lat  the  win'  blaw  through  't,  though,"  said  Cosmo, 
amused.  "  But  whaur  are  ye  for  sae  ear,  Miss 
Elsie  ? " 


494  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

"  I'm  for  the  Muir  o'  Warlock,  to  see  my  sister,  the 
schuilmaisters  wife.  Puir  man  !  he's  been  ailin'  ever 
sin'  the  spring.  I  little  thoucht  I  was  to  hae  sic  guid 
company  upo'  the  ro'd !  Ye  hae  made  an  unco  differ 
upo'  my  father,  Mr.  Warlock.  I  never  saw  man  sae 
altert.     In  ae  single  ook  !  " 

She  had  heard  Cosmo  say  he  much  preferred  good 
Scotch  to  would-be  English;  and  therefore  spoke  with 
what  breadth  she  could  compares.  In  her  head,  not- 
withstanding, she  despised  everything  homely,  for  she 
had  been  to  school  in  the  city,  where,  if  she  had 
learned  nothing  else,  she  had  learned  the  ambition  to 
appear ;  of  being  anything  she  had  no  notion.  She 
had  a  loving  heart,  though  —  small  for  her  size,  but 
lively.  Of  what  really  goes  to  make  a  lady  —  the 
end  of  her  aspiration  —  she  had  no  more  idea  than 
the  swearing  father  of  whom,  while  she  loved  him,  as 
did  all  his  family,  she  was  not  a  little  ashamed.  She 
was  an  honest  girl  too  in  a  manner,  and  had  by  nature 
a  fair  share  of  modesty  ;  but  now  her  heart  was  sadly 
fluttered,  for  the  week  that  had  wrought  such  a  change 
on  her  father,  had  not  been  without  its  effect  upon 
her  —  witness  her  talking  vulgar,  broad  Scotch  ! 

"  Your  father  is  very  kind  to  me.  So  are  you  all," 
said  Cosmo.  "  My  father  will  be  grateful  to  you  for 
being  so  friendly  to  me." 

"  Some  wad  be  gien  they  daured  !  "  faltered  Elspeth. 
"  Was  ye  content  wi'  my  getherin'  to  ye  —  to  your 
scythe,  I  mean,  laird  ?  " 

"  Wha  could  hae  been  ither.  Miss  Elsie  t  Try  'at 
I  wad,  I  couldna  lea'  ye  ahin'  me." 

"  Did  ye  want  to  lea'  me  ahin'  ye .?  "  rejoined  Elsie, 


THE    LABOURER.  495 


with  a  sidelong  look  and  a  blush,  which  Cosmo  never 
saw.  "  I  wadna  seek  a  better  to  gether  til.  —  But 
maybe  ye  dinna  like  my  han's ! " 

So  far  as  I  ca»  see,  the  suggestion  was  entirely  ir- 
relevant to  the  gathering,  for  what  could  it  matter  to 
the  mower  what  sort  of  hands  the  woman  had  who 
gathered  his  swath.  .  But  then  Miss  Elspeth  had,  if 
not  very  pretty,  at  least  very  small  hands,  and 
smallness  was  the  only  merit  she  knew  of  in  a 
hand. 

What  Cosmo  might  have  answered,  or  in  what  per- 
plexity between  truth  and  unwillingness  to  hurt  she 
might  have  landed  him  before  long,  I  need  not  specu- 
late, seeing  all  danger  was  suddenly  swept  away  by  a 
second  voice,  addressing  Cosmo  as  unexpectedly  as 
the  first. 

They  had  just  passed  a  great  stone  on  the  roadside, 
at  the  foot  of  which  Aggie  had  been  for  some  time 
seated,  waiting  for  Cosmo,  whom  she  expected  with 
the  greater  confidence  that,  having  come  to  meet  him 
the  night  before,  and  sat  where  she  now  was  till  it 
was  dark,  she  had  had  to  walk  back  without  him. 
Recognizing  the  voices  that  neared  her,  she  waited 
until  the  pair  had  passed  her  shelter,  and  then  ad- 
dressed Cosmo  with  a  familiarity  she  had  not  used 
since  his  return  —  for  which  Aggie  had  her  reasons. 

"  Cosmo  !  "  she  called,  rising  as  she  spoke,  "  winna 
ye  bide  for  me  ?  Ye  hae  a  word  for  twa  as  weel  's 
for  ane.     The  same  sairs  whaur  baith  hae  lugs." 

The  moment  Cosmo  heard  her  voice,  he  turned  to 
meet  her,  glad  enough. 

*'  Eh,  Aggie  !  "  he  said,  "  I'm  pleased  to  see  ye.     It 


49^  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

was  richt  guid  o'  ye  to  come  to  meet  me !  Hoo's 
your  father,  an'  hoo's  mine  ?  " 

"They're  baith  brawly,"  she  answered,  "an'  blithe 
eneuch,  baith,  at  the  thoucht  o'  seein'  ye.  Gien  ye 
couldna  luik  in  upo'  mine  the  day,  he  wad  stap  doon 
to  the  castle.  Sin'  yesterday  mornin'  the  laird,. 
Grizzie  tells  me,  hasna  ristit  a  minute  in  ae  place, 
'cep'  in  his  bed.     What  for  camna  ye  thestreen  ?  " 

As  he  was  answering  her  question,  Aggie  cast  a 
keen  searching  look  at  his  companion  :  Elsie's  face 
was  as  red  as  fire  could  have  reddened  it,  and  tears 
of  vexation  were  gathering  in  her  eyes.  She  turned 
her  head  away  and  bit  her  lip. 

The  two  girls  were  hardly  acquainted,  nor  would 
Elsie  have  dreamed  of  familiarity  with  the  daughter  of 
a  poor  cotter.  Aggie  seemed  much  farther  below  her, 
than  she  below  the  young  laird  of  Glenwarlock.  Yet 
here  was  the  rude  girl  addressing  him  as  Cosmo  — 
with  the  boldness  of  a  sister,  in  fact !  and  he  taking 
it  as  matter  of  course,  and  answering  in  similar 
style  !  It  was  unnatural  !  Indignation  grew  fierce 
within  her.  What  might  she  not  have  waked  in  him 
before  they  parted  but  for  this  shameless  hussey  ! 

"  Ye'll  be  gaein'  to  see  yer  sister.  Miss  Elsie  ?  " 
said  Agnes,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

Elspeth  kept  her  head  turned  away,  and  made  her 
no  answer.  Aggie  smiled  to  herself,  and  reverting  to 
Cosmo,  presently  set  before  him  a  difficulty  she  had 
met  with  in  her  algebra,  a  study  which,  at  such  few 
times  as  she  could  spare,  she  still  prosecuted  with 
the  help  of  Mr.  Simon.  So  Elsie,  who  understood 
nothing  of  the  subject,  was  thrown  out.     She  dropped 


THE    LABOURER. 


497 


a  little  behind,  and  took  the  role  of  the  abandoned 
one.  When  Cosmo  saw  this,  he  stopped,  and  they 
waited  for  her.     When  she  came  up, 

"  Are  we  gaein'  ovver  fest  for  ye,  Miss  Elsie  }  "  he 
said. 

"  Not  at  all ;  "  she  answered,  English  again ;  "  I 
can  walk  as  fast  as  any  one." 

Cosmo  turned  to  Aggie  and  said, 

**  Aggie,  we're  i'  the  wrang.  We  had  no  richt  to 
speik  aboot  things  'at  only  twa  kent,  whan  there  was 
three  walkin'  thegither.  —  Ye  see,  Miss  Elsie,  her  an' 
me  was  at  the  schuil  thegither,  an'  we  happent  to 
tak'  up  wi'  the  same  kin'  o'  thing,  partic'larly  algebra 
an'  geometry,  an'  can  ill  baud  oor  tongues  frae  them 
whan  we  forgather.  The  day,  it's  been  to  the  preju- 
dice o'  oor  mainners,  an'  I  beg  ye  to  owerluik  it." 

"  I  didn't  think  it  was  profitable  conversation  for 
the  Sabbath  day,"  said  Elsie,  with  a  smile  meant  to 
be  chastened,  but  which  Aggie  took  for  bitter,  and 
laughed  in  her  sleeve.  A  few  minutes  more  and  the 
two  were  again  absorbed,  this  time  with  a  point  in 
conic  sections,  on  which  Aggie  professed  to  require 
-enlightenment,  and  again  Elsie  was  left  out.  Nor  did 
this  occur  either  through  returning  forgetfulness  on 
the  part  of  Aggie;  or  the  naturally  strong  under- 
tow of  the  tide  of  science  in  her  brain.  Once  more 
Elsie  adopted  the  neglected  role,  but  being  allowed  to 
play  it  in  reality,  dropped  farther  and  farther  behind, 
until  its  earnest  grew  heavy  on  her  soul,  and  she  sat 
down  by  the  roadside  and  wept  —  then  rising  in 
anger,  turned  back,  and  took  another  way  to  the 
village. 


498  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Poor  girl-heart !  How  many  tears  do  not  fancies 
doomed  to  pass  cost  those  who  give  them  but  as  it 
were  a  niglit's  lodging !  And  the  tears  are  bitter 
enough,  although  neither  the  love,  nor  therefore  the 
sorrow,  may  have  had  time  to  develop  much  individ- 
uality. One  fairest  soap-bubble,  one  sweetly  devised 
universe  vanishes  with  those  tears ;  and  it  may  be 
never  another  is  blown  with  so  many  colours,  and 
such  enchanting  changes  !  What  is  the  bubble  but 
air  parted  from  the  air,  individualized  by  thinnest 
skin  of  slightly  glutinous  water  !  Does  not  swift  com- 
fort and  ready  substitution  show  first  love  rather  the 
passion  between  man  and  woman  than  between  a 
man  and  a  woman  ?  How  sjDcedily  is  even  a  Romeo 
consoled  to  oblivion  for  the  loss  of  a  Rosaline  by  the 
gain  of  a  Juliet !  And  yet  I  mourn  over  even  such 
evanishment ;  mourn  although  I  know  that  the  bubble 
of  paradise,  swift  revolving  to  annihilation,  is  never 
a  wasted  thing:  its  influence,  its  educating  power  on 
the  human  soul,  which  must  at  all  risks  be  freed  of 
its  shell  and  taught  to  live,  remains  in  that  soul,  to 
be,  I  trust,  in  riper  worlds,  an  eternal  joy.  At  the 
same  time  therefore  I  would  not  be  too  sad  over  such' 
as  Elsie,  now  seated  by  a  little  stream,  in  a  solitary 
hollow,  alone  with  her  mortification — bathing  her 
red  eyes  with  her  soaked  handkerchief,  that  she 
might  appear  without  danger  of  inquisition  before  the 
sister  whom  marriage  had  not  made  more  tender,  or 
happiness  more  sympathetic. 

But  how  is  it  that  girls  ready  to  cry  more  than 
their  eyes  out  for  what  they  call  love  when  the  case 
is  their  own,  are  so  often  hard-hearted  when  the  case 


THE    LABOURER.  499 


is  that  of  another  ?  There  is  something  here  to  be 
looked  into  —  if  not  by  an  old  surmiser,  yet  by  the 
young  women  themselves !  Why  are  such  relentless 
towards  every  slightest  relaxation  of  self  restraint, 
who  would  themselves  dare  not  a  little  upon  occa- 
sion ?  Here  was  Agnes,  not  otherwise  an  ill-natured 
girl,  positively  exultant  over  Elsie's  discomfiture  and 
disappearance  !  The  girl  had  done  her  no  wrong,  and 
she  had  had  her  desire  upon  her:  she  had  defeated 
her,  and  was  triumphant;  yet  this  was  how  she 
talked  of  her  to  her  own  inner  ear  :  "  The  impident 
limmer! — makin'up  til  a  gentleman  like  oor  laird  'at 
is  to  be  !  Cudna  he  be  doon  a  meenute  but  she 
maun  be  upon  'im  to  devoor  'im  !  —  an'  her  father 
naething  but  the  cursin'  flesher  o'  Stanedyhes  !  — 
forby  'at  a'body  kens  she  was  promised  to  Jock 
Rantle,  the  mason  lad,  an  wad  hae  hed  him,  gien  the 
father  o'  her  hadna  sworn  at  them  that  awfu'  'at 
naither  o'  them  daured  gang  a  fit  further !  Gien  I 
had  loed  a  lad  like  Jock,  wad  I  hae  latten  him  gang 
for  a  screed  o'  ill  words  !  They  micht  hae  sworn  'at 
likit  for  me  !  I  wad  ha  latten  them  sweir  !  Na,  na ! 
Cosmo's  for  Elsie's  betters  !  " 

Elsie  appeared  no  more  in  any  field  that  season  — 
staid  at  Muir  o'  Warlock,  indeed,  till  the  harvest  was 
over. 

But  what  a  day  was  that  Sunday  to  Cosmo ! 
Labour  is  the  pursuivant  of  joy  to  prepare  the  way 
before  him.  His  father  received  him  like  a  king 
come  home  with  victor\\  And  was  he  not  a  king? 
Did  not  the  Lord  say  he  was  a  king,  because  he  came 
into  the  world  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth  ? 


500  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

They  walked  together  to  church  —  and  home  again 
as  happy  as  two  boys  let  out  of  school  —  home  to 
their  poor  dinner  of  new  potatoes  and  a  little  milk, 
the  latter  brought  by  Aggie  with  her  father's  compli- 
ments "to  his  lairdship,"  as  Grizzle  gave  the  message. 
What!  was  I  traitor  bad  enough  to  call  it  a  poor 
dinner?  Truth  and  Scotland  forgive  me,  for  I  know 
none  so  good  !  And  after  their  dinner  immediately, 
for  there  was  no  toddy  now  for  the  laird,  they  went 
to  the  drawing-room  —  an  altogether  pleasant  place 
now  in  the  summer,  and  full  of  the  scent  of  the 
homely  flowers  Grizzle  arranged  in  the  old  vases  on 
the  chimney-piece  —  and  the  laird  laid  himself  down 
on  the  brocade-covered  sofa,  and  Cosmo  sat  close 
beside  him  on  a  low  chair,  and  talked,  and  told  him 
this  and  that,  and  read  to  him,  till  at  last  the  old 
man  fell  asleep,  and  then  Cosmo,  having  softly  spread 
a  covering  upon  him,  sat  brooding  over  things  sad 
and  pleasant,  until  he  too  fell  asleep,  to  be  with  Joan 
in  his  dreams. 

At  length  the  harvest  was  over,  and  Cosmo  went 
home  again,  and  in  poverty-stricken  Castle  Warlock 
dwelt  the  most  peaceful,  contented  household  imagin- 
able. But  in  it  reigned  a  stillness  almost  awful.  So 
great  indeed  was  the  silence  that  Grizzle  averred  she 
had  to  make  much  more  noise  than  needful  about  her 
affairs  that  she  might  not  hear  the  ghosts.  She  did 
not  mind  them,  she  said,  at  night ;  they  were  natural 
then  ;  but  it  was  ugsome  to  hear  them  in  the  day- 
time !  The  poorer  their  fare,  the  more  pains  Grizzle 
took  to  make  it  palatable.  The  gruel  the  laird  now 
had   always  for   his   supper,  was  cooked  with   love 


THE    LABOURER.  501 


rather  than  fuel.  With  what  a  tender  hand  she 
washed  his  feet !  What  miracles  of  the  laundress-art 
were  the  old  shirts  he  wore !  Now  that  he  had  no 
other  woman  to  look  after  him,  she  was  to  him  like  a 
mother  to  a  delicate  child,  in  all  but  the  mother's 
familiarity.  But  the  cloud  was  cold  to  her  also ;  she 
seldom  rimed  now;  and  except  when  unusually  ex- 
cited, never  returned  a  sharp  answer. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 


It  is  time  I  told  my  readers  something  about  Joan. 
But  it  is  not  much  I  have  to  tell.  Cosmo  received 
from  her  an  answer  to  his  letter  concerning  the  ring 
within  a  week ;  and  this  is  what  she  wrote  : 

"  My  Dear  Cosmo,  of  course  I  cannot  understand  why  you 
went  away  as  you  did.  It  makes  me  very  unhappy,  lest  I  should 
be  somehow  to  blame.  But  I  trust  you  entirely.  I  too  hope 
for  the  day  when  it  will  be  impossible  to  hide  anything.  I 
always  find  myself  when  I  wake  in  the  morning,  trying  to  under- 
stand why  you  went  away  so,  and  one  reason  after  another 
comes,  but  I  have  not  got  the  real  one  yet  —  at  least  I  think  not. 
I  will  pay  Dr.  Jermyn  the  money  with  all  my  heart.  I  cannot 
pay  him  just  yet,  because  the  same  day  you  left  he  was  called  to 
London  upon  medical  business,  and  has  not  yet  returned.  Give 
my  love  to  your  father.  I  hope  you  are  safe  and  happy  with 
him  by  this  time.  I  wish  I  were  with  you  !  Will  that  day  ever 
come  again  ?  I  cann9t  tell  you  how  I  miss  you.  It  is  not  won- 
derful, if  you  will  only  think  of  it.  I  hope,  dear  Cosmo,  it  was 
not  my  fault  that  you  went  away.  I  know  my  behaviour  was 
such  as  to  most  people  would  have  seemed  very  strange,  but 
you  are  not  most  people,  and  I  did  and  do  think  you  understood 
502 


THE    SCHOOLMASTER.  503 

it,  and  made  all  the  allowance  for  me  that  could  be  made.  T 
had  almost  forgot  to  thank  you  for  the  money.  I  do  thank  you, 
Cosmo,  but  I  should  have  been  much  more  grateful  had  you 
kept  it.  It  is  all  so  stupid  —  and  next  to  no  use  without  you  or 
your  father !  And  to  know  I  have  such  a  large  sum  in  the 
house  that  my  brother  knows  nothing  about,  quite  frightens  me 
sometimes.  I  wish  vou  had  left  me  the  horse  to  hide  it  in.  T 
feel  ver\'  much  like  a  thief,  and  I  am  sure  my  brother  would 
think  of  me  as  one  if  he  knew.  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  there 
were  an  evil  imp  in  the  drawer  where  it  lies.  Mind  you  do  not 
make  the  slightest  allusion  to  it  in  any  of  your  letters,  and  ask 
your  father  not  to  do  so  either.  It  has  just  one  comfort  in  it  — 
that  I  could  now,  if  driven  to  it,  run  away.  My  love  to  your 
father.     Your  loving  cousin,  Joan." 

Long  before  this  letter  arrived,  Cosmo  had  told 
his  father  everything ;  and  he,  although  he  could  not 
believe  there  was  anything  between  Joan  and  the 
doctor,  quite  approved  of  his  conduct. 

"  Wait  upon  the  Lord,"  he  said,  after  listening  with 
the  excitement  of  a  young  heart,  the  ache  of  an  old 
one,  and  the  hope  of  a  strong  one,  to  his  son's  narra- 
tive ;  "  wait  patiently  on  him,  and  he  will  give  thee 
thy  heart's  desire." 

They  waited,  and  patiently. 

What  was  there  now  that  Cosmo  could  do  to  make 
a  little  money  ?  With  Mr.  Simon  he  held  many  an 
anxious  conference  on  the  matter,  but  nothing  could 
either  think  of  except  the  heart-wearing  endeavour 
after  favour  with  one  or  other  of  the  magazines  —  in- 
volving an  outlay  of  much  time,  a  sick  deferment  of 
hope,  and  great  discouragement ;  for  how  small  were 
the  chances  of  his  work  proving  acceptable  to  this  or 
that  man  who.  with  the  best  intentions  for  the  success 


504  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

of  the  magazine  in  his  charge,  and  a  keen  enough 
perception  of  the  unworthy  in  literature,  had  most 
likely  no  special  love  for  the  truth,  or  care  to  teach 
it,  and  was  besides  under  the  incapacitating  influence, 
the  deadening,  debilitating,  stupefying  effect  of 
having  continually  to  judge  —  not  to  mention  the 
-enervating  hopelessness  that  at  length  falls,  I  presume, 
upon  every  editor  of  a  popular  magazine,  of  finding  one 
pearl  among  the  cartloads  of  oysters  sent  him  by 
unknown  divers  in  the  gulf  of  literature  —  filling  him 
with  amazement  that  there  should  be  so  many  to 
write  so  well,  and  so  few  to  write  better.  Mr.  Simon 
nevertheless  encouraged  Cosmo  to  make  the  attempt, 
seeing  that  to  one  who  had  nothing  else  to  do,  it  in- 
volved  no  loss,  and  would  be  certain  gain  to  both  head 
and  heart,  with  just  the  possibility  as  well  of  a  little 
return  in  money.  So  he  set  to  work,  and  wrote,  and 
wrote,  and  sent,  and  sent,  but  heard  nothing  and 
nothing. 

The  weeks  came  and  went,  and  the  frosts  came 
and  went,  and 'then  came  and  staid:  and  the  snow 
fell  and  melted,  and  then  fell  and  lay ;  and  winter 
settled  down  with  moveless  rigour  upon  Castle  War- 
lock. Nor  had  it  lasted  long,  before  it  became  evi- 
dent that  the  natural  powers  of  the  laird  had  begun 
to  fail  more  rapidly.  But  sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  the  evil  thereof,  and  that  in  the  matter  of  death  as 
well  as  of  life ;  if  we  are  not  to  forestall  the  difficul- 
ties of  living,  surely  we  are  not  to  forestall  the  sorrows 
of  dying.  There  was  one  thing,  however,  that  did 
trouble  him  :  the  good  old  man's  appetite  had  begun 
to  fail,  and  how  was  he  to  get  for  him  what  might 


THE    SCHOOLMASTER. 


50s 


tempt  him  to  eat  ?  He  was  always  contented,  nor 
ever  expressed  a  desire  for  anything  not  in  the  house  ; 
but  this  was  what  sent  Cosmo  on  his  knees  oftenest 
of  all — oftener  even  than  his  own  spiritual  necessities. 

Never  surely  did  household,  even  in  Scotland,  live 
upon  less  !  Cosmo  had  to  watch  Grizzle  to  know 
that  she  ate  at  all,  and  once  came  nearly  to  the  con- 
clusion that  she  ate  only  dry  meal. 

He  would  have  had  his  father  take  his  grandmother's 
room  now  she  was  gone,  but  he  would  not  leave  the 
one  he  had  last  occupied  with  his  wife.  From  that 
he  would  go,  he  said,  as  she  had  gone.  So  Cosmo 
took  his  grandmother's,  and  there  wrote  and  read  — 
and  when  his  father  could  not,  in  the  very  cold  weather, 
leave  his  bed,  was  within  the  call  of  the  slightest 
knock  upon  his  floor.  But  every  now  and  then,  when 
the  cold  would  abate  a  little,  the  laird  would  revive, 
and  hope  grow  strong  in  the  mind  of  his  son :  his 
father  was  by  no  means  an  old  man  yet,  he  would 
persuade  himself,  and  might  be  intended  to  live  many 
years;  and  thereupon  he  would  set  to  work  with 
fresh  vigour.  But  it  is  hard  to  labour  without  en- 
couragement, or  apparent  prospect  of  result. 

Many  a  time  did  the  Grades  go  without  milk  that 
they  might  send  for  the  laird  the  little  their  cow  gave  ; 
but,  though  Cosmo  never  refused  their  kindness,  as 
indeed  he  had  no  right,  it  went  to  his  heart  that  the 
two  old  people  should  go  without  what  was  as  need- 
ful for  them  as  for  his  father.  Mr.  Simon  too  would 
every  now  and  then  send  something  from  his  house 
or  from  the  village  —  oftener  than  Cosmo  knew,  for 
he  had  taken  Grizzie  into  his  confidence,  and  she  was 


5o6  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

discreet.     But  now  at  length  fell  a  heavenly  crumb  to 
keep  the  human  sparrows  picking. 

The  schoolmaster  at  the  Muir,  he  who  had  behaved 
so  insolently  to  the  Warlocks,  father  and  son,  had  re- 
turned to  his  duties  at  the  end  of  the  haijst-play,  but 
had  been  getting  worse  for  some  time,  and  was  at 
length  unable  to  go  on.  He  must  therefore  provide 
a  substitute,  and  Cosmo  heard  that  he  was  on  the 
outlook  for  one. 

Now  Cosmo  knew  that,  if  he  had  desired  to  be 
made  parish-schoolmaster,  the  influence  of  Lord  Lick- 
my-loof  would  have  been  too  strong  against  him,  but 
it  seemed  possible  that  his  old  master  might  have  so 
far  forgotten  by-gones  as  to  be  willing  to  employ  him. 
He  went  to  him  therefore  the  same  hour,  and  being 
shown  into  the  room  where  he  sat  wrapt  in  blankets, 
laid  before  him  his  petition. 

Now  the  schoolmaster,  although  both  worldly  in 
his  judgment,  and  hasty  in  his  temper,  was  not  a 
heartless  man.  Keen  feelings  are  not  always  disso- 
ciated from  brutality  even.  One  thing  will  reach  the 
heart  that  another  will  not ;  and  much  that  looks 
like  heartlessness,  may  be  mainly  stupidity.  He  had 
never  ceased,  after  the  first  rush  of  passion,  to  regret 
he  had  used  the  word  that  incensed  the  boy ;  and 
although  he  had  never  to  his  own  heart  confessed 
himself  wrong  in  knocking  down  the  violator  of  the 
sacredness  of  the  master's  person,  yet,  unconsciously 
to  himself,  he  had  for  that  been  sorry  also.  Had  he 
been  sorrier,  his  pride  would  yet  have  come  between 
him  and  confession.  When  the  boy,  then,  on  whom 
for  years  he  had  not  set  his  eyes,  stood  unexpectedly 


THE    SCHOOLMASTER.  507 

before  him,  a  fine  youth,  down  in  the  world,  and 
come,  as  he  anticipated  the  moment  he  saw  him, 
to  beg  a  favour  —  behold  an  opportunity,  not  only  of 
making  reparation  without  confession,  but  of  induing 
the  dignity  of  forgiveness !  He  received  Cosmo, 
therefore,  with  the  stiffness  of  a  condescending 
inferior,  it  is  true,  but  with  kindness  notwithstanding, 
and,  having  heard  his  request,  accorded  immediately 
a  gracious  assent,  vv^hich  so  filled  Cosmo  with  grati- 
tude that  he  could  not  help  showing  some  emotion, 
whereupon  the  heart  of  the  schoolmaster  in  its  turn 
asserted  itself ;  and  from  that  moment  friendly  rela- 
tions v.-ere  established  between  them. 

Things  were  soon  arranged.  Cosmo  was  to  be 
paid  by  the  week,  and  should  commence  his  work  the 
next  morning.  He  returned  therefore  in  great  con- 
solation, carrying  with  him  for  his  father  one  or  two 
simple  luxuries  the  village  afforded.  That  night  he 
hardly  could  sleep  for  jo}'. 

He  set  about  his  new  duties  with  zeal.  Teaching 
itself  is  far  from  easy  work  to  anyone  anxious  to 
make  it  genuine  ;  and  Cosmo  had  besides  to  .leave 
home  early  in  all  kinds  of  wintry  weather,  and  walk 
to  it  through  the  bitterness  of  black  frosty  the  shifting 
toil  of  deep  snow,  or  the  assault  of  fierce  storm. 
But  he  thought  nothing  of  the  labour  or  its  acces- 
sories of  discomfort ;  the  only  thing  he  felt  hard  was 
having  to  leave  his  father  all  the  winter-day  alone,  for 
it  was  generally  five  o'clock  before  he  got  back  to 
him. 

And  now  in  the  heart  of  the  laird  arose  a  fresh 
gratitude  for  the  son  God  had  given  him.     His  hours 


5o8         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

passed  mainly  in  devotion  and  anticipation.  Every 
time  he  received  his  son  from  the  arms  of  the  winter 
to  his  own,  it  was  like  the  welcoming  of  one  lost  and 
found  again. 

Into  the  stern  weather  of  their  need  had  stolen  a 
summer-day  to  keep  hope  alive.  Cosmo  gave  up  his 
writing,  and  spent  all  the  time  he  had  at  home  in 
waiting  with  mind  and  body  upon  his  father.  He 
read  to  him — sometimes  his  own  poetry, —  and  that 
his  father  liked  best  of  all,  because  therein  he  came 
nearer  to  his  boy ;  now  and  then,  when  he  was  too 
weary  for  thought,  he  would  play  backgammon  with 
him  ;  and  sometimes,  when  he  was  himself  more 
tired  than  usual,  would  get  Grizzle  to  come  and  tell 
yet  again  the  stories  she  used  to  tell  him  when  he  was 
a  child  —  some  of  which  his  father  enjoyed  the  more 
that  he  remembered  having  heard  them  when  he  was 
himself  a  child.  Upon  one  of  these  occasions,  Grizzle 
brought  from  her  treasury  a  tale  which  the  laird  re- 
membered his  grandmother's  saying  she  too  had 
heard  when  she  was  a  child,  and  therewith  it  came 
into  Cosmo's  head  to  write  it  out,  as  nearly  as  he 
could,  in  Grizzle's  words,  and  try  a  magazine  with  it. 
For  the  first  time  he  received  an  answer — the  most 
agreeable  part  of  which  was  a  small  cheque,  and  the 
next  most  agreeable  the  request  that  he  would  send 
another  paper  of  like  character.  Grizzle's  face, 
when  she  learned  in  what  way,  and  how  largely,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  she  had  commenced  contributing  to 
the  income  of  the  family,  was  a  sight  worth  a  good 
deal  more  than  a  good  dinner  to  both  father  and  son. 
At  first  she  imadned  Cosmo  was  making  game   of 


THE    SCHOOLMASTER. 


509 


her,  and  stood  upon  the  dignity  of  her  legends  ;  but 
convinced  at  length  of  the  fact  of  the  case,  she  stared 
into  nowhere  for  a  minute,  and  then  said, 

"  Eh,  sirs  !  Oot  o'  the  moo'  o'  babes  an'  sucklin's ! 
The  Lord  be  praist,  whan  herts  is  raist !  " 

"Amen,  Grizzie  !  "  responded  the  laird.  "Eh, 
wuman  ?  gien  ever  ane  wana  place  in  a  faimily,  her 
ain  by  foreordeenment  o'  the  fatherly  providence  'at 
luiks  efter  the  faimilies  o'  men,  Grizzie,  ye're  that 
wuman  ! " 

Word  to  please  Grizzie  better  the  laird  could  not 
have  found.  It  sunk  in  and  in,  for  her  pleasure  could 
make  no  show,  there  being  no  room  for  any  growth  in 
the  devotion  of  her  ministrations. 

And  now  Cosmo  would  take  no  more  of  the 
Grades'  milk,  but  got  Aggie  to  go  every  day  to  a  farm 
near,  and  buy  what  was  required  for  his  father,  and 
Aggie  was  regular  as  the  clock,  sunshine  or 
storm. 

But  there  was  another  thing  in  which  she  was 
not  quite  so  regular,  but  which  yet  she  never  missed 
when  she  could  help  it ;  so  that,  as  often  as  three 
and  occasionally  four  times  in  the  week,  Cosmo  would 
find  her  waiting  for  him  somewhere  on  his  way  home, 
now  just  outside  the  village,  now  nearer  Glenwarlock, 
according  to  the  hour  when  she  had  got  through  her 
work.  The  village  talked,  and  Aggie  knew  it,  but 
did  not  heed  it ;  for  she  had  now  in  her  own  feeling 
recovered  her  former  position  towards  him  ;  and  it 
was  one  of  the  comforts  of  Cosmo's  labour,  when  the 
dulness  or  contrariety  of  the  human  animal  began  to 
be  too  much  for  him,  to  think  of  the  talk  with  Agnes 


5IO  WARLOCK    O     GLRNWARLOCK. 

he  might  hope  was  waiting  him.  Under  Mr. 
Simon  she  had  made  much  progress,  and  was  now 
a  companion  fit  for  any  thinking  man.  The  road 
homf;  wa^  not  half  the  length  to  Cosmo  when  Agnes 
wall^ed  it  too.  Thinking  inside,  and  labouring  outside, 
she  was.  in  virtue  of  the  necessities  of  her  life,  such  a 
woman  as  not  the  most  vaunted  means  of  education, 
without  the  weight  and  seeming  hindrances  of  strug- 
gle, can  produce.  One  of  the  immortal  women  she 
was  —  for  she  had  set  out  to  grow  forevermore  —  for 
whom  none  can  predict  an  adequate  future,  save  him 
who  knows  what  he  is  making  of  her. 

Her  behaviour  to  Cosmo  was  that  of  a  half  sister, 
who,  born  in  a  humbler  position,  from  which  she  could 
not  rise,  was  none  the  less  his  sister,  and  none  the 
less  loved  him.  Whether  she  had  anything  to  strug- 
gle with  in  order  to  keep  this  position,  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  say ;  but  I  have  a  suspicion  that  the  beha- 
viour of  Elspeth,  which  so  roused  her  scorn,  had 
something  to  do  with  the  restoring  of  the  old  relation 
between  them.  The  most  jealous  of  reasonable  moth- 
ers could  hardly  have  complained  of  her  behaviour  in 
Cosmo's  company,  however  much  she  might  have  dis- 
approved of  her  seeking  it  as  she  did.  But  it  is  well 
that  God,  and  not  even  reasonable  mothers,  has  the 
ordering  of  those  things  in  which  they  consider  them- 
selves most  interested,  and  are  not  unfrequently  in- 
trusive. Next  to  his  father  and  Mr.  Simon,  Agnes 
Gracie  was  the  most  valued  of  Cosmo's  friends.  Mr. 
Burns  came  next.  For  Lady  Joan,  he  never  thought 
of  her  by  the  side  of  anybody  else.  If  he  had  not 
learned  to  love  her,  I  think  he  might  now  very  well 


THE    SCHOOLMASTER.  51I 

have  loved  Agnes.  And  if  Cosmo  had  asked  her 
now,  when  marriage  was  impossible,  to  marry  him 
when  he  could  marry,  I  do  not  know  what  Agnes 
might  have  answered.  •  But  he  did  not,  and  they  re- 
mained the  best  of  trusting  friends. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


GRANNIE   AND    THE    STICK. 


This  winter,  the  wind  that  drops  the  ripened  fruit 
not  plucked  before,  blew  hard  upon  old  Grannie,  who 
had  now  passed  her  hundredth  year.  For  some  time 
Agnes  had  not  been  able  to  do  much  for  her,  but 
another  great-grandchild,  herself  a  widow  and  a 
mother,  was  spending  the  winter  with  her.  On  his 
way  to  or  from  school,  Cosmo  every  day  looked  in  to 
see  or  enquire  after  her  ;  and  when  he  heard  she  had 
had  a  bad  night  he  would  always  think  how  with  her 
would  fail  the  earthly  knowledge  of  not  a  little  of  the 
past  of  his  family ,  and  upon  one  of  these  occasions 
resolved  that  he  would  at  least  find  out  whether  she 
remembered  the  bamboo  he  had  brought  from  Cairn- 
carque. 

Calling  when  school  was  over,  he  heard  she  was  a 
little  better,  and  the  next  morning  brought  with  him 
the  cane.  In  the  afternoon  he  learned  that  she  had 
had  a  better  night,  and  going  in  found  her  in  her 
chair  by  the  fireside,  and  took  his  place  by  her  so  that 

512 


GRANNIE    AND    THE    STICK.  513 

the  light  from  the  window  at  her  back  should  fall 
upon  the  stick. 

He  had  not  sat  more  than  a  minute,  when  he  saw 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  horse. 

"  What's  that  ye  hae  there,  Cosmo  .?  "  she  said. 

"  This  ?  "  returned  Cosmo.  "  It's  a  cane  I  pickit 
up  upo'  my  traivels.     What  think  ye  o'  't  ?  " 

He  held  it  out  to  her,  but  she  did  not  move  her 
hand  towards  it. 

"  Whaur  got  ye  't  ?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes  growing 
larger  as  she  looked. 

"  What  gars  ye  speir,  grannie  ?  "  he  returned,  with 
assumed  indifference. 

"  I  dinna  believe  there  was  anither  like  the  ane 
that's  like,"  she  replied. 

"  In  which  case,"  rejoined  Cosmo,  "  it  maun  be  the 
same.     Ken  ye  onything  aboot  it  ?  " 

"  Ay ;  an'  sae  du  ye,  or  ye  hae  less  sense  nor  I 
wad  hae  mintit  o'  a  Warlock.  That  stick's  no  a  stick 
like  ither  sticks,  an'  I  wuss  I  was  nearer  hame." 

"  Ye  dinna  mean,  grannie,  there's  onything  no 
canny  aboot  the  stick  ?  "  said  Cosmo. 

"  I  wadna  like  to  think  him  near  me  'at  aucht  it." 
she  replied. 

"  Wha  aucht  it,  grannie  ?  " 

"  Rive  't  a'  to  bits,  laddie ;  there's  something  by 
ordnar  aboot  it.  The  auld  captain  made  o'  't  as  gien 
it  had  been  his  graven  image.  That  was  his  stick  ye 
hae  i'  yer  han',  whaurever  ye  got  it ;  an'  it  was 
seldom  oot  o'  his  frae  mornin'  till  nicht.  Some  wad 
hae't  he  tuik  it  til  's  bed  wi'  him.  I  kenna  aboot 
that;  but  gien  by  ony  accident  he   set  it  oot  frae 


514  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

'atween  his  knees,  it  was  never  oot  o'  the  sicht  o'  his 
e'en.  I  hae  seen  him  mysel',  missin'  't  Uke,  luik  up 
o'  a  suddent  as  gien  his  sowl  hed  been  requiret  o' 
'im,  an'  grip  at  it  as  gien  it  hed  been  his  proadigal 
son  come  hame  oonexpeckit." 

Cosmo  told  her  where  he  had  found  it. 

"  I  tellt  ye  sae  !  "  she  cried.  "  The  murderin' 
villian  cairriet  it  wi'  him,  weel  kennin  what  was  intil 
*t !" 

Cosmo  showed  her  the  joints  and  their  boxes, 
telling  her  he  had  searched  them  all,  but  had  found 
nothing.     She  shook  her  head. 

"  Ower  late  !  ower  late  !  "  she  murmured.  "  The 
rievin'  English  lord  was  aforehan'  wi'  the  heir  !  " 

She  seemed  then  to  fall  into  a  kind  of  lethargic 
musing,  and  as  Cosmo  had  not  yet  made  up  his  mind 
to  show  her  the  paper  he  had  found  in  the  top  of  the 
cane,  and  ask  her  opinion  concerning  it,  for  the 
present  he  bade  her  good-night  —  little  thinking  he 
was  not  to  see  her  again  in  this  world.  For  that 
same  night  she  died. 

And  now  when  his  opportunity  was  over,  and  he 
could  learn  no  more  from  her,  the  mind  of  Cosmo 
was  exercised  afresh  concerning  the  bamboo.  Ac- 
cording to  Grannie,  its  owner  habitually  showed 
anxiety  for  its  safety,  and  had  it  continually  under  his 
eye.  It  did  not  seem  likely  that  the  rings  had  been 
in  it  long  when  it  was  taken  from  him,  neither  that  at 
any  time  he  would  have  chosen  to  carry  like  valua- 
bles about  with  him  in  such  a  receptacle.  It  could 
hardly  therefore  be  because  of  those  or  of  similar 
precious  things  concealed  in  it,  that  he  was  always  so 


GRANNIE    AND    THE    STICK.  515 

watchful  over  it.  It  was  possible,  indeed,  that  from 
often  using  it  for  temporary  concealment,  he  had  come 
to  regard  it  with  constant  anxiety  ;  but  the  conjecture 
did  not  satisfy  Cosmo.  And  as  often  as  he  turned  the 
thing  over  in  his  mind,  his  speculation  invariably  set- 
tled on  the  unintelligible  paper.  It  was  true  the  said 
paper  had  seemed  not  so  much  there  for  its  own  safety, 
as  by  chance  employment  for  the  protection  of  the 
jewels  round  which  it  was,  after  all,  rather  squeezed  than 
folded  ;  but  a  man  may  crumple  up  his  notes  and 
thrust  them  in  his  pocket,  yet  care  more  for  them 
than  for  anything  else  in  the  same  place. 

Thinking  of  the  thing  one  night  after  he  was  in 
bed,  it  occurred  to  him  suddenly  to  ask  himself  what 
he  had  done  with  the  paper,  for  he  could  not  remem- 
ber when  he  had  last  seen  it.  He  got  up,  took  the 
stick,  which  being  Joan's  gift  he  always  carried  to 
his  room,  and  opening  the  horse,  which  he  could  now 
do  without  his  eyes,  found  it  empty.  This  made  him 
uneasy,  and  he  lay  down  again  to  think  what  he  could 
have  done  with  it.  It  was  dark  night,  and  his  anxiety 
was  not  so  great  but  that  sleep  presented  its  claim 
upon  him.  He  resisted  it  however,  unwilling  to 
yield  until  he  had  at  least  thought  of  some  probability 
with  regard  to  the  paper.  But,  like  a  soundless  tide, 
sleep  kept  creeping  upon  him,  and  he  kept  starting 
from  it  with  successive  spur-pricks  of  the  will  which 
had  not  yet  consented  to  the  nightly  annihilation. 
Bethinking  himself  in  one  of  these  revivals  that  he 
might  have  put  it  in  his  pocket-book,  he  stretched 
his  hand  to  the  chair  beside  the  bed  on  which  lay  his 
■clothes.     Then  came  a  gap  in  his  consciousness,  and 


5t6  warlock  o'  glenwarlock. 

the  next  thing  he  knew  was  the  pocket-book  in  his 
hand,  with  the  memory  or  the  dream,  he  could  not 
■  afterwards  tell  which,  of  having  searched  it  in 
vain. 

He  now  felt  so  anxious  that  he  could  rest  no  longer, 
but  must  get  up  and  look  for  the  paper  until  he  found 
it.  He  rose  and  lighted  his  candle,  went  down  the 
stair  to  the  kitchen,  and  out  9f  the  house  —  then 
began  to  doubt  whether  he  was  awake,  but,  like  one 
compelled,  went  on  to  the  great  door,  and  up  to  the 
drawing-room,  when  first  he  became  aware  that  the 
moon  was  shining,  and  all  at  once  remembered  a 
former  dream,  and  knew  it  was  coming  to  him  again  : 
there  it  was  !  —  the  old  captain,  seated  in  his  chair, 
with  the  moon  on  his  face,  and  a  ghastly  look !  He 
felt  his  hair  about  to  stand  on  end  with  terror,  but 
resisted  with  all  his  might.  The  rugged,  scarred 
countenance  gazed  fixedly  at  him,  and  he  did  his  best 
to  return  the  gaze.  The  appearance  rose,  and  walked 
from  the  room,  and  Cosmo  knew  he  had  to  follow  it 
to  the  room  above,  which  he  had  not  once  entered 
since  his  return.  There,  as  before,  it  went  to  the 
other  side  of  the  bed,  and  disappeared.  But  this 
time  the  dream  went  a  little  farther.  Despite  his 
fear,  Cosmo  followed,  and  in  the  wall,  by  the  head  of 
the  bed,  saw  an  open  door.  He  hurried  up  to  it,  but 
seemed  to  strike  against  the  wall,  and  woke.  He 
was  in  bed,  but  his  heart  was  beating  a  terribly  quick 
march.  His  pocket-book  was  in  his  hand  :  he  struck 
a  light,  and  searching  in  it,  found  the  missing 
paper. 

The  next  night,  he  told  his  dream  to  his  father  and 


GRANNIE   AND    THE    STICK.  517 

Mr.  Simon,  and  they  had  a  talk  about  dreams  and 
apparitions  ;  then  all  three  pored  over  the  paper,  but 
far  from  arriving  at  any  conclusion,  seemed  hardly  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  anything  that  could  be  called  light 
upon  its  meaning. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


OBSTRUCTION. 


All  this  time  Cosmo  had  never  written  agaiv  to 
Joan ;  both  his  father  and  he  thought  it  better  ..he 
former  only  should  for  the  present  keep  up  the  cor- 
respondence. But  months  had  passed  without  tiieir 
hearing  from  her.  The  laird  had  written  the  third 
time,  and  received  no  answer. 

The  day  was  now  close  upon  them  when  the  last  of 
their  land  would  be  taken,  leaving  them  nothing  but 
the  kitchen-garden  —  a  piece  of  ground  of  about  half 
an  acre,  the  little  terraced  flower-garden  to  the  south 
of  the  castle,  and  the  croft  tenanted  by  James  Gracie. 
They  applied  to  Lord  Lick-my-loof  to  grant  them  a 
lease  of  the  one  field  next  the  castle,  which  the  laird 
with  the  help  of  the  two  women  had  cultivated  the 
spring  before,  but  he  would  not  —  his  resentment 
being  as  strong  as  ever,  and  his  design  deeper  than 
they  saw. 

The  formal  proceedings  took  their  legal  course  ;  and 
upon  and  after  a  certain  day  Lord  Lick-my-loof  might 

Si8 


OBSTRUCTION. 


519 


have  been  seen  from  not  a  few  of  the  windows  of  the 
castle,  walking  the  fields  to  the  north  and  east,  and 
giving  orders  to  his  bailiff  concerning  them.  Within 
a  fortnight  those  to  the  north  were  no  more  to  be 
entered  from  the  precincts  of  the  castle  except  by 
climbing  over  a  dry-stane  dyke;  and  before  many  ad- 
ditional days  Avere  gone  by,  they  found  him  more 
determined  than  they  could  have  imagined,  to  give 
them  annoyance. 

He  had  procured  a  copy  of  an  old.  plan  of  the 
property,  and  therein  discovered,  as  he  had  expected 
and  hoped,  that  that  part  of  the  road  from  the  glen 
of  the  Warlock  which  passed  the  gate  of  the  castle, 
had  been  made  by  the  present  laird  only  about  thirty 
years  before  ;  whereupon  —  whether  he  was  within 
his  legal  rights  or  not,  I  do  not  know,  but  everybody 
knew  the  laird  could  not  go  to  law  —  he  gave  orders 
that  it  should  be  broken  up  from  the  old  point  of 
departure,  and  a  dry  dyke  built  across  the  gate.  But 
the  persons  to  whom  the  job  was  committed,  either 
ashamed  or  afraid,  took  advantage  of  an  evening  on 
which  Cosmo  had  a  class  for  farm-labourers,  to  do 
the  work  after  dark ;  whence  it  came  that,  plodding 
homewards  without  a  suspicion,  he  found  himself  as 
he  approached  the  gate  all  at  once  floundering  among 
stones  and  broken  ground,  and  presently  brought  up 
standing,  a  man  built  out  from  his  own  house  by  a 
mushroom  wall  —  the  entrance  gone  which  seemed  to 
him  as  old  as  the  hills  around  it,  for  it  was  older  than 
his  earthly  life.  With  a  great  shove  he  hurled  half 
the  height  of  it  over,  and  walking  in,  appeared  before 
his  father  in  such  a  rage  as  bewildered  and  troubled 


520  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

him  far  more  than  any  insolence  of  Lord  Lick-my- 
loof  could  have  done. 

"  The  scoundrel  !  "  cried  Cosmo  ;  "  I  should  like 
to  give  him  a  good  drubbing  —  only  he's  an  old  man ! 
But  I'll  make  him  repent  it  —  and  heartily,  too  !  " 

"  Cosmo,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  man,  "you  are 
meddling  with  what  does  not  belong  to  you." 

"  I  know  it's  your  business,  father,  not  mine ; 
but  —  " 

"  It's  no  more  my  business  than  yours,  my  son ! 
'  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord.'' —  An'  the  best  o'  't 
is,"  he  went  on,  willing,  by  a  touch  of  humour  in 
the  truth  he  had  to  speak,  to  help  turn  the  tide  of 
Cosmo's  wrath,  "  he'll  tak'  no  more  than's  guid  for 
the  sinner ;  whereas  yersel',  Cosmo,  i'  the  tune  ye're 
in  noo,  wad  damn  puir  auld  Lick-my-loof  for  ever  and 
ever  !  Man,  he  canna  hurt  me  to  the  worth  o'  sic  a 
heap  o'  firin' !  "  Then  changing  his  tone  to  absolute 
seriousness,  "  Min'  ye  tu,  Cosmo,"  he  went  on,  "  'at 
the  maister  never  threatent  but  aye  left  the  thing 
whatever  it  was,  to  him  'at  judges  richteously.  Ye 
want  nothing  but  fair  play,  my  son,  an'  whether  ye 
get  it  frae  Lick-my-loof  or  no,  there's  ane  winna  haud 
it  frae  ye.  Ye  's  get  it,  my  son ;  ye  's  get  it !  The 
maister  '11  hae  a'  thing  set  richt  at  the  lang  last ;  an' 
gien  he  binna  in  a  hurry,  we  may  weel  bide.  For 
mysel',  the  man  has  smitten  me  upo'  the  tae  cheek, 
an'  may  hae  the  tither  to  lat  drive  at  whan  he  likes. 
It's  no  worth  liftin'  my  auld  airm  to  haud  aff  the 
smack." 

He  laughed,  and  Cosmo  laughed  too  — but  grimly 
and  out  of  tune.     Then  the  laird  told  him  that  just 


OBSTRUCTION.  52 1 


that  piece  of  the  road  was  an  improvement  of  his 
own,  and  had  cost  him  a  good  bit  of  blasting  :  it  used 
to  cross  the  stream  twice  before  it  got  to  the  yard- 
gate.  He  hardly  thought,  he  said,  that  his  lordship 
would  like  to  have  to  restore  it ;  for,  besides  the  ex- 
pense, it  would  cost  him  so  much  out  of  one  of  his 
best  fields.  In  the  meantime  they  must  contrive  how 
to  connect  themselves  with  that  part  of  the  road 
which  he  dared  not  touch.  The  worst  of  it  was  that 
there  was  no  longer  any  direct  communication  across 
the  fields  with  James  Grade's  cottage.  To  follow 
the  road  was  to  make  a  tremendous  round. 

Grizzle  being  already  in  bed  when  Cosmo  came 
home,  learned  nothing  that  night  of  the  evil  news. 

At  break  of  day  Cosmo  was  up  to  see  what  could 
be  done,  and  found  that  a  few  steps  cut  in  the  rocky 
terraces  of  the  garden  would  bring  one  with  ease  to 
the  road.  He  set  about  it  immediately,  and  before 
breakfast- time  had  finished  the  job. 

The  rage  and  indignation  of  Grizzle  when  she 
learned  what  had  been  done,  far  surpassed  Cosmo's, 
and  served  to  secure  him  from  any  return  of  the  at- 
tack. The  flood  of  poetic  abuse  that  she  poured 
out  seemed  inexhaustible,  sweeping  along  with  it  tale 
after  tale  to  the  prejudice  of  "  that  leein'  Lick-my- 
loof."  But,  poetic  as  was  her  speech,  not  a  single 
rime  did  she  utter  for  the  space  of  an  hour  during 
which  she  thus  unloaded  her  heart. 

"  Ay  !  "  she  concluded,  and  thereafter  sank  into 
smouldering  silence,  "  there  was  a  futpath  there  afore 
ye  was  born,  laird,  blast  or  no  blast ;  an'  to  that  I 
can  fess  them  'at  can  beir  testimony,  ane  o'  them 


52  2  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

bein'  nane  ither  nor  Jeames  Gracie  himseP,  wha's  ten 
lang  years  aheid  o'  yer  lairdship  !  an'  lat  me  see  man 
or  dog  'at  '11  haud  me  ohn  taen  my  wull  o'  my  richts 
intil  't !  They  canna  hang  me,  and  for  less  I 
carena." 

The  schoolmaster  was  at  length  fit  to  resume  his 
labours,  and  about  a  week  after  the  event  just  re- 
corded, Cosmo  ceased  to  attend  the  school  in  his 
stead. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 
grizzie's  rights. 

In  those  days  Mistress  Gracie  fell  sick,  and  though 
for  a  while  neither  husband  nor  grand-daughter 
thought  seriously  of  her  ailment,  it  proved  more  than 
her  age,  worn  with  labour,  could  endure,  and  she  be- 
gan to  sink.  Then  Grizzle  must  go  and  help  nurse 
her,  for,  Cosmo  being  at  home  all  day  long,  the  laird 
could  well  enough  spare  her. 

Father  and  son  were  now  seldom  out  of  each 
other's  sight.  When  Cosmo  was  writing,  the  laird 
would  be  reading  in  the  same  room;  and  when, -after 
their  dinner,  the  laird  slept,  Cosmo  would  generally 
read  his  New-testament  beside  him,  and  as  often  as 
he  woke  fresh  from  his  nap,  the  two  would  talk  about 
what  the  one  had  been  reading,  and  Cosmo  would 
impart  what  fresh  light  the  Greek  had  given  him. 
The  capacity  of  the  old  man  for  taking  in  what  was 
new,  was  wonderful,  and  yet  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
seeing  it  was  the  natural  result  of  the  constant  prac- 
tice of  what  he  learned  —  for  all  truth  understood 
523 


524 


WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


becomes  duty.  To  him  that  obeys  well,  the  truth 
comes  easy ;  to  him  who  does  not  obey,  it  comes  not, 
or  comes  in  forms  of  fear  and  dismay.  The  true, 
that  is  the  obedient  man,  cannot  help  seeing  the 
truth,  for  it  is  the  very  business  of  his  being  —  the 
natural  concern,  the  correlate  of  his  soul.  The  reli- 
gion of  these  two  was  obedience  and  prayer;  their 
theories  only  the  print  of  their  spiritual  feet  as  they 
walked  homeward. 

The  road  which  Lord  Lick-my-loof  had  broken  up, 
went  nearly  straight  from  Castle  Warlock  to  the  cot- 
tage of  the  Grades,  where  it  joined  the  road  that 
passed  his  lodge.  And  now  came  Grizzle's  call  to 
action  !  The  moment  she  found  her  services  required 
for  Mistress  Gracie,  she  climbed  the  gate  of  the  close, 
from  the  top  of  it  stepped  upon  the  new  wall,  thence 
let  herself  down  on  the  disfeatured  road,  and  set  out 
to  follow  its  track,  turn  for  turn,  through  the  ploughed 
land.  In  the  evening  she  came  back  the  same  way, 
scrambled  over  the  wall  and  the  gate,  and  said  never 
a  word,  nor  was  asked  a  question.  To  visit  his  ten- 
ants the  laird  himself  went  a  mile  about,  but  most 
likely  he  was  not  prepared  to  strain  his  authority  with 
Grizzle,  and  therefore  was  as  one  who  knew  noth- 
ing. 

Before  the  week  was  out,  her  steps,  and  hers  alone, 
had  worn  a  visible  and  very  practicable  footpath 
across  the  enemy's  field ;  and  whether  Lord  Lick-my- 
loof  was  from  home,  or  that  he  willed  the  trespass  to 
assume  its  most  defined  form  and  yield  personal  de- 
tection ere  he  moved  in  the  matter,  the  week  went  by 
without  notice  taken. 


grizzie's  rights.  525 


On  the  Sunday  morning  however,  as  Grizzle  was 
on  her  way  to  the  cottage,  she  suddenly  spied,  over 
the  edge  of  a  hollow  through  which  her  path  ran,  the 
head  of  Lord  Lick-my-loof :  he  was  following  the 
track  she  had  made,  and  would  presently  meet  her. 
Wide  spread  her  nostrils,  like  those  of  the  war-horse,. 
for  she  too  smelt  the  battle  from  afar. 

"  Here's  auld  Belzebub  at  last !  'gaein  to  an'  fro  i' 
the  earth,  an'  walkin'  up  an'  doon  intil  't ! "  she  said 
to  herself.  "  Noo's  for  me  to  priv  the  trowth  'o  Scrip- 
tur !  Whether  he'll  flee  or  no,  we'll  see  :  I  s'  resist 
him.     It's  no  me  'at'll  rin,  ony  gait !  " 

His  lordship  had  been  standing  by  his  lodge  on 
the  outlook,  and  when  he  saw  Grizzle  approaching, 
had  started  to  encounter  her.  As  she  drew  near  he 
stopped,  and  stood  in  the  path  motionless.  On  she 
came  till  within  a  single  pace  of  him.  He  did  not 
rtiove.     She  stopped. 

"  I  doobt,  my  lord,"  she  said,  "  I'll  hae  to  mak  the 
ro'd  a  bit  wider.  There's  hardly  room  for  yer  lord- 
ship an'  anither.     But  I'm  gettin'  on  fine  !  " 

"  Is  the  woman  an  idiot !  "  exclaimed  his  lordship. 

"  Muckle  siclike  's  yersel',  my  lord  !  "  answered 
Grizzle  ;  —  "no  that  muckle  wit  but  I  might  hae 
mair,  to  guide  my  steps  throuw  the  wilderness  ye  wad 
mak  o'  no  an  ill  warl'." 

"Are  you  aware,  woman,  that  you  have  made  your- 
self liable  to  a  heavy  fine  for  trespass  ?  This  field  is 
mine !  " 

"An'  this  fitpath's  mine,  my  lord  —  made  wi'  my 
ain  feet,  an'  I  coonsel  ye  to  stan'  aside,  an'  lat  me  by." 

"Woman,  you  are  insolent." 


526         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  Troth,  I  needna  yer  lordship  to  tell  me  that ! 
Nane  the  less  ae  auld  wife  may  say  'at  she  likes  til 
anither." 

"  I  tell  you  there  is  no  thoroughfare  here." 

"  An'  I  tell  you  there  is  a  thoroughfare,  an'  ye  hae 
but  to  wull  the  trowth  to  ken  'at  there  is.  There  was 
a  ro'd  here  lang  or  yer  lordship's  father  was  merried 
upo'  yer  lordship's  mither,  an'  the  law — what  o' 't 
yer  lordship  hasna  the  makin'  o'  —  is  deid  agen  ye  : 
that  I  can  priv.  Hae  me  up  :  I  can  tak  ni}'  aith  as 
weel's  onybody  whan  I'm  sure." 

"  I  will  do  so ;  but  in  the  meantime  you  must  get  off 
my  property." 

"  Weel,  Stan'  by,  an'  I  s'  be  aff  o'  't  in  less  time  nor 
yer  lordship." 

"  You  must  go  back." 

"  Hooly  an'  fairly  !  Bide  till  the  gloamin',  an'  I  s' 
gang  back  —  never  fear.  I'  the  mids  o'  the  mean- 
time I'm  gaein'  aff  o'  yer  property  the  nearest  gait  — 
an'  that's  straucht  efter  my  nose." 

She  tried,  for  the  tenth  time  or  so,  to  pass,  but  turn 
as  she  might,  he  confronted  her.  She  persevered. 
He  raised  the  stick  he  carried,  perhaps  involuntarily, 
perhaps  thinking  to  intimidate  her.  Then  was  the  air 
rent  with  such  an  outcry  of  assault  as  grievously 
shook  the  nei-ves  of  his  lordship. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  howling  jade  !  "  he  cried  — 
and  the  epithet  sufficed  to  destroy  every  possible 
remnant  of  forbearance  in  the  mind  of  Grizzle. 

"  There's  them  'at  tells  me,  my  lord,"  she  said  with 
sudden  calm,  "  'at  that's  hoo  ye  misca'd  Annie  Fyfe, 
puir  lass,  whan  she  cam  efter  ye,  fifty  year  ago,  to 


grizzie's  rights.  527 


yer  father's  hoose,  an'  gat  na  a  plack  to  baud  her  an' 
her  bairn  frae  the  roadside !  Ye  needna  girn  like 
that,  my  lord  )  Spare  yer  auld  teeth  for  the  gnashin' 
they'll  hoe  to  du.  Though  ye  fear  na  God  nor  regaird 
man,  yer  hoor  '11  come,  an'  yer  no  like  to  bid  it  wal- 
come." 

Beside  himself  with  rage,  Lord  Lick-my-loof  would 
have  laid  hold  of  her,  but  she  uttered  a  louder  cry 
than  before  —  so  loud  that  James  Grade's  deaf  colley 
heard  her,  and,  having  a  great  sense  of  justice,  more 
courage  than  teeth,  and  as  little  regard  to  the  law  of 
trespass  as  Grizzle  herself,  came,  not  bounding,  but 
tearing  over  the  land  to  her  rescue,  as  if  a  fox  were  at 
one  of  his  sheep.     He  made  straight  for  his  lordship. 

Now  this  dog  was  one  of  the  chief  offences  of  the 
cottage,  for  he  had  the  moral  instinct  to  know  and 
hate  a  bad  man,  and  could  not  abide  Lord  Lick-my- 
loof.  He  had  never  attacked  him,  for  the  colley  cul- 
tivated self-restraint,  but  he  had  made  his  lordship 
aware  that  there  was  no  friendship  in  his  heart  towards 
him. 

Silent  almost  as  swift,  he  was  nearly  on  the  enemy 
before  either  he  or  Grizzle  saw  him.  His  lordship 
staggered  from  the  path,  and  raised  his  stick  with 
trembling  hand. 

''  Doon  wi'  ye  !  doon.  Covenant !  doon,  ye  tyke  !  " 
cried  Grizzle.  "  Haud  yer  teeth  gien  ye  wad  keep 
the  feow  ye  hae  !  Deil  a  bite  but  banes  is  there  i'  the 
breeks  o'  'im  ! " 

The  dog  had  obeyed,  and  now  stood  worshipping 
her  with  his  tail,  while  with  his  eyes  he  watched  the 
enemy  and  his  stick. 


528  WARLOCK    O*    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Hark  ye,  Covenant,"  she  went  on,  "  whan  his 
sowl  he  selled  him,  the  deevil  telled  him,  'at  never 
mair  sud  he  turn  a  hair  at  cry  or  moanin'  in  highway 
or  loanin',  for  greitin'  or  sweirin'  or  grane  o'  despair. 
Haud  frae  him.  Covenant,  my  fine  fallow,  haud  frae 
him." 

Grizzle  talked  to  the  dog  nor  lifted  her  eyes.  When 
she  looked  up,  Lord  Lick-my-lodf  was  beyond  the 
hollow,  hurrying  as  if  to  fetch  help.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  was  safe  in  the  cottage,  out  of  breath,  but  in  high 
spirits ;  and  even  the  dying  woman  laughed  at  her 
tale  of  how  she  had  served  his  lordship. 

"  But  ye  ken.  Grizzle,"  suggested  Jeames,  "  we're 
no  to  return  evil  for  evil,  nor  flytin'  for  flytin' !  " 

"  Ca'  ye  that  flytin'  ?  "  cried  Grizzle.  "  Ye  sud  hear 
what  I  didna  say !  That  was  flytin' !  We'll  be  tried 
by  what  we  can  do,  no  by  what  we  canna !  An'  for  re- 
turnin'  evil,  did  I  no  haud  the  dog  frae  the  deith- 
shanks  o'  'im  ?  " 

The  laird  and  Cosmo  had  spent  as  usual  a  quiet 
and  happy  Sunday.  It  was  now  halfway  down  the 
gloamin'  towards  night,  and  they  sat  together  in  the 
drawing-room,  the  laird  on  the  sofa,  and  Cosmo  at 
one  of  the  windows.  The  sky  was  a  cold  clear  calm 
of  thin  blue  and  translucent  green,  with  a  certain  still- 
ness which  in  my  mind  will  more  or  less  for  ever  be 
associated  with  a  Scotch  Sunday.  A  long  low  cloud 
of  dark  purple  hung  like  a  baldachin  over  the  yet 
glimmering  coals  on  the  altar  of  sunset,  and  the  sky 
above  it  was  like  a  pale  molten  mass  of  jewels  that 
had  run  together  with  heat,  and  was  still  too  bright 
for  the  stars  to  show.     They  were  both  looking  out 


GRIZZIES    RIGHTS.  529 


at  the  sky,  and  a  peace  as  of  the  unbeginnings  of 
eternity  was  sinking  into  their  hearts.  The  laird's 
thoughts  were  with  his  Marion  in  the  region  beyond 
the  dream  ;  Cosmo's  with  Joan  in  the  dream  that  had 
vanished  into  itself.  If  love  be  religion,  what  matter 
whether  its  object  be  in  heaven  or  on  the  earth  ! 
Love  itself  is  the  only  true  nearness.  He  who  thinks 
of  his  Saviour  as  far  away  can  have  made  little 
progress  in  the  need  of  him ;  and  he  v.  ho  does  not 
need  much  cannot  know  much,  any  more  than  he 
who  is  not  forgiven  much  can  love  much.  They  sat 
silent,  their  souls  belonging  rather  to  the  heaven  over 
their  heads  than  the  earth  under  their  feet,  when 
suddenly  the  world  of  stillness  was  invaded  with 
hideous  discord,  above  which  almost  immediately 
rose  the  well  known  voice  of  Grizzle  in  fierce  opposi- 
tion. They  rushed  out.  Over  the  gate  and  ob- 
structing wall  they  descried,  indistinct  in  the  dull 
light,  several  heads,  and  hurr}'ing  thither,  found 
Grizzle  in  the  grasp  of  Lord  Lick-my-loof 's  bailiff,  and 
his  lordship  looking  on  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  the  smile  that  was  his  own.  But  it  was  not  for 
her  own  sake  Grizzle  cried  out :  there  were  two  more 
in  the  group  —  two  of  the  dog-kind,  worrying  each 
other  wdth  all  the  fierceness  of  the  devotion  which 
renders  a  master's  quarrel  more  than  the  dog's  own. 
They  were,  how^ever,  far  from  equally  matched,  and 
that  was  the  cause  of  Grizzle's  cry ;  for  the  one  was 
the  somewhat  ancient  colley  named  Covenant,  whose 
teeth  were  not  what  they  liad  been,  and  the  other 
a  mastiff  belonging  to  Lord  Lick-my-loof,  young  and 
malevolent,  loosed  from  the  chain  the  first  time  that 


530  WARLOCK    O     GLEN  WARLOCK. 

night  for  a  month.  It  looked  ill  for  Covenant,  but 
he  was  a  brave  clog,  incapable  of  turning  his  back  on 
death  itself  when  duty  called  him,  and  what  more  is 
required  of  dog  or  man !  Both  the  dogs  were  well 
bred  each  in  its  kind ;  Covenant  was  the  more 
human,  Dander  the  more  devilish  ;  and  the  battle 
was  fierce. 

The  moment  Cosmo  descried  who  the  combatants 
were,  he  knew  that  Covenant  had  no  fair  chance, 
and  was  over  the  wall,  and  had  thrown  himself  upon 
them  to  part  them ;  whereupon  the  bailiff,  knowing 
his  master  desired  the  death  of  Covenant,  let  Grizzle 
go,  and  would  have  rushed  upon  Cosmo.  But  it  was 
Grizzle's  turn  now,  and  she  clung  to  the  bailiff  like 
an  anaconda.  He  cursed  and  swore  ;  nor  were  there 
lacking  on  Grizzle's  body  the  next  day  certain  bruises 
of  which  she  said  nothing  except  to  Aggie  ;  but  she 
had  got  hold  of  his  cravat,  and  did  her  best  to 
throttle  him.  Cosmo  did  the  same  for  the  mastiif 
with  less  effect,  and  had  to  stun  him  with  a  blow  on 
the  head  from  a  great  stone,  when  he  caught  up 
Covenant  in  his  arms,  and  handed  him  over  the  wall 
and  the  gate  to  his  father.  The  same  moment  the 
bailiff  got  away  from  Grizzle,  and  made  at  him, 
calling  to  the  mastiff.  But  the  dog,  only  half  recov- 
ered from  the  effects  of  Cosmo's  blow,  either  mistak- 
ing through  bewilderment,  or  moved  by  some 
influence  ill  explicable,  instead  of  attacking  Cosmo, 
rushed  at  his  master.  Rage  recalls  dislike,  and  it 
may  be  he  remembered  bygone  irritations  and 
teasings.  His  lordship,  however,  suddenly  became 
aware  of  his  treacherous  intent,  and  in  a  moment  his 


grizzie's  rights.  53: 


legs  had  saved  themselves  over  wall  and  gate,  and 
he  stood  panting  and  shaking  beside  the  laird, 
in  his  turn  the  trespasser.  The  dog  would  have 
been  over  after  him,  had  not  Cosmo,  turning  his 
back  on  the  bailiff,  who  had  not  observed  his 
master's  danger,  knocked  the  dog,  in  the  act  of 
leaping,  once  more  to  the  earth,  when  a  rush  of 
stones  that  came  with  him,  and  partly  fell  upon  him, 
had  its  share  in  cowing  him. 

"  Haud  him  !  baud  him  !  baud  the  deevil,  ye  brute  ! 
Haud  the  brute,  ye  deevil ! "  cried  his  lordship. 

"  It's  yer  ain  dog,  my  lord,"  said  the  bailiff,  what- 
ever consolation  there  might  be  in  the  assurance,  as 
he  took  him  by  the  collar. 

"  Am  I  to  be  worriet  'cause  the  dog's  my  ain  ? 
Haud  him  the  sickerer.  He  s'  be  ayont  mischeef  the 
morn  !  " 

"  He  's  the  true  dog  'at  sides  wi'  the  richt ;  he'll  be 
in  bliss  afore  his  maister,"  said  Grizzle,  as  she  de- 
scended from  the  gate,  and  stood  on  her  own  side 
of  the  fence. 

But  the  laird  was  welcoming  his  lordship  with  the 
heartiness  of  one  receiving  an  unexpected  favour  in 
the  visit. 

"  Weel  loupen,  my  lord  !  "  he  said.  "  Come  in  an' 
rist  yersel'  a  bit,  an'  I  s'  tak  ye  back  on  to  yer  ain 
property  an  easier  gait  nor  ower  a  dr}'  stane-dyke." 

''  Gien  it  ^^my  property,"  returned  his  lordship,  "  I 
wad  be  obleeged  to  ye,  laird,  to  haud  yer  fowk  aff 
o'  't ! " 

"  Grizzle,  wuman,"  said  the  laird,  turning  to  her, 
"ye  dinna  surely  want  to  bring  me  to  disgrace  !    The 


532 


WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 


Ian'  's  his  lordship's  —  bought  and  paid  for,  an' 
I  hae  no  more  richt  ower  't  nor  Jeames  Grade's 
colley  here,  puir  beast !  " 

"  Ye  may  be  richt  aboot  the  Ian',  laird,  the  mair's 
the  pity  !  "  answered  Grizzle  ;  "  but  the  futpath, 
beggin'  the  pardon  o'  baith  lairdship  and  lordship, 
belangs  to  me  as  muckle  as  to  aither  o'  ye.  Here  I 
Stan',  alane  for  mysel'  !  That  ro'd  's  my  neebor,  an' 
I'm  bun'  to  see  til 't,  for  it  wad  be  a  sair  vex  to  mony 
a  puir  body  like  mysel'  to  louse  the  richt  til 't." 

**  You'll  have  to  prove  what  you  say,  woman,''  said 
his  lordship. 

"  Surely,  Grizzle,"  expostulated  the  laird,  "  his  lord- 
ship maun  un'erstan'  affairs  o'  this  natur',  as  well  's 
you  or  me  !  " 

"  As  to  the  un'erstan'in'  o'  them,  laird,  I  mak  nae 
doobt,"  returned  Grizzle  ;  "  an'  as  little  'at  he's  o' 
the  wrang  side  o'  the  wa'  this  time." 

"  Na,  Grizzle — for  he's  upo'  my  side  o'  't,  an' 
walcome." 

*•  He's  jist  as  walcome,  naither  mair  nor  less,  to  the 
path  I  made  wi'  my  ain  feet  throuw  the  rouchest 
pleughed  Ian'  I  ever  crossed." 

Therewith  Grizzle,  who  hated  compromise,  turned 
away,  and  went  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Come  this  way,  my  lord,"  said  the  laird. 

"Take  the  dog  home,"  said  his  lordship  to  the 
bailiff.  "  Have  him  shot  the  first  thing  tomorrow- 
morning.  If  it  were  n't  the  Sabbath,  I'd  have  it 
done  to-night." 

"  He's  good  watch,  my  lord,"  interceded  the 
man. 


grizzie's  rights.  533 


"  He  may  be  a  good  watch,  but  he's  a  bad  dog," 
replied  his  lordship.  "  I'll  have  neither  man  nor 
dog  about  me  that  doesn't  know  his  master.  You 
may  poison  him  if  you  prefer  it." 

"  Come  awa',  come  awa',  my  lord !  "  said  the  laird. 
"  This,  as  ye  hae  said,  's  the  Sabbath-nicht,  an'  the 
thoucht  o'  't  sud  mak  us  mercifu'.  I  hae  naething  to 
offer  ye  but  a  cheir  to  rist  ye  in,  an  syne  we'll  tak 
the  ro'd  like  neebors  thegither  an'  I'll  shaw  ye  the 
w'y  hame." 

His  lordship  yielded,  for  his  poor  thin  legs  were 
yet  trembling  with  the  successful  effort  they  had 
made  under  the  inspiration  of  fear,  and  now  that  spur 
was  gone,  the  dyke  seemed  a  rampart  insurmount- 
able, and  he  dared  not  attempt  it. 

"  What  are  you  keeping  that  cursed  dog  there 
for  ? "  he  said,  catching  sight,  as  he  turned,  of 
Cosmo,  who  held  Covenant  by  the  back  of  the  neck. 

"  I  am  only  waiting  till  your  lordship's  mastiif  is 
out  of  the  way,"  answered  Cosmo. 

"  That  you  may  set  him  at  me  again,  as  that  old 
hag  of  yours  did  this  morning  !  "  As  he  spoke  they 
had  neared  the  kitchen-door,  open  as  usual,  and 
Grizzle  heard  what  he  said. 

"  That's  as  big  a  lee  as  ever  your  lordship  h'ard 
tell  i'  the  coort,"  she  cried.  "  It's  the  natur  o'  dougs 
to  tak  scunners.  They  see  far  ben.  Fess  the  beast 
in  here,  Cosmo  ;  I  s'  be  answerable  for  'im.  The 
puir  animal  canna  bide  my  lord." 

"  Hoot,  hoot,  Grizzle,"  began  the  laird  anew,  with 
displeasure  in  his  tone,  but  already  the  dog  was  in, 
and  the  kitchen-door  closed. 


534  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


"  Leave  her  alone,  Mr.  Warlock,  if  you  don't  want 
to  have  the  worst  of  it,"  said  his  lordship,  trying  to 
laugh.  "  But  seriously,  laird,"  he  went  on,  "  it  is  not 
neighbourly  to  treat  me  like  this.  Oblige  me  by  giv- 
ing orders  to  your  people  not  to  trespass  on  my  prop- 
erty. I  have  paid  my  money  for  it,  and  must  be 
allowed  to  do  with  it  as  I  please." 

"  My  lord,"  returned  the  laird,  "  I  have  not  given, 
and  will  not  give  you  the  smallest  annoyance  in  my 
own  person.  —  I  hope  yet  to  possess  the  earth,"  he 
interjected,  half  unconsciously,  to  himself,  but  aloud. 
"  But  —  " 

"  Hey !  hey  !  "  said  his  lordship,  thinking  the  man 
was  sending  his  reason  after  his  property. 

*'  But,"  continued  the  laird,  "  I  cannot  interfere 
with  the  rights  of  my  neighbours.  If  Grizzle  says  she 
has  a  right  of  way  —  and  I  think  very  probably  she 
knows  what  she  is  about  —  I  have  no  business  to 
interfere." 

"  Confound  your  cant !  "  cried  his  lordship.  "You 
care  no  more  for  your  neighbours  than  I  do.  You 
only  want  to  make  yourself  unpleasant  to  me.  Show 
me  the  way  out,  and  be  damned." 

"My  lord,"  said  Cosmo,  "if  you  weren't  an  old 
man,  I  would  show  you  the  quickest  way  out !  How 
dare  you  speak  so  to  a  man  like  my  father  I " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  young  fool  !  Vou  stand 
up  for  your  father !  —  idling  about  at  home  and  eat- 
ing him  up  !  Why  don't  you  list }  With  your  edu- 
cation you  could  work  your  way  up.  I  warn  you,  if 
you  fall  into  my  hands,  I  will  not  spare  you.     The 


grizzie's  rights.  535 


country  will  be  better  to  live  in  when  such  as  you  are 
scarcer." 

"  Cosmo,"  said  his  father,  "  do  not  answer  him. 
Show  his  lordship  the  way  out,  and  let  him  go." 

As  they  went  through  the  garden,  Lord  Lick-my- 
loof  sought  to  renew  the  conversation,  but  Cosmo 
maintained  a  stern  silence,  and  his  lordship  went 
home  incensed  more  than  ever  with  the  contumacious 
paupers. 

But  the  path  in  which  Grizzle  gloried  as  the  work 
of  her  own  feet,  hardened  and  broadened,  and  that 
although  she  herself  had  ver^^  little /oo^  in  it  any  more. 
For  the  following  week  Mistress  Gracie  died ;  and 
the  day  after  she  was  buried,  the  old  cotter  came  to 
the  laird,  and  begged  him  to  yield,  if  he  pleased,  the 
contested  point,  and  part  with  the  bit  of  land  he  oc- 
cupied. For  all  the  neighbours  knew  his  lordship 
greatly  coveted  it,  though  none  of  them  were  aware 
what  a  price  he  had  offered  for  it. 

"Ye  see,  sir,"  he  said,  "noo  'at  s/ie's  gane,  it  mait- 
ters  nae thing  to  Aggie  or  me  whaur  we  are  or  what 
comes  o'  's." 

"  But  wadna  she  hae  said  the  same,  gien  it  had 
been  you  'at  was  gane,  Jeames  ?  "  asked  the  laird. 

"  'Deed  wad  she  !  She  was  aye  a'  thing  for  ither 
fowk,  an'  naething  for  hersel' !  The  mair  cause  she 
sud  be  considered  the  noo  !  " 

"An'  ca'  ye  that  considerin'  her — to  du  the  min- 
ute she's  gane  the  thing  wad  hae  grieved  her  by  or- 
dinar'  whan  she  was  wi'  ye  ?  " 

"Whan  we  war  thegither,"  returned  Jeames  with 
solemnity,  "  there  was  a  heap  o'  things  worth  a  han- 


536  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

tie;  noo  'at  we're  pairted  there's  jist  nearhan'  as 
mony  'at  's  no  worth  a  strae." 

"  Weel  du  I  un'erstan'  ye,  Jeames  !  "  returned  the 
laird  with  a  sigh.  "  But  what  wad  come  o'  yersel'  an' 
Aggie  wi'oot,  a  place  to  lay  yer  heid  ?  We're  no  to 
mak  oorsel's  a'  sae  ill  aff  as  was  the  Maister ;  we 
maun  lea'  that  to  his  wull.  Ye  wadna  hae  her  luik 
doon  an'  see  ye  in  less  comfort  nor  whan  she  was  wi' 
ye!" 

"Thereanent,  sir,  I  had  a  word  o'  proposal  to 
mak,"  rejoined  Jeames.  "  Ye  hae  nae  men  noo  aboot 
the  place :  what  for  sudna  Aggie  an'  me  come  and 
bide  i'  the  men's  quarters,  and  be  at  han'  to  len'  a 
han'  whan  it  was  wantit  ?  Aggie  an'  me  wad  help  to 
get  mair  oot  o'  the  gairden ;  I  wad  hae  mair  time  for 
weyvin' ;  an'  ye  wad  get  a  heap  for  the  bit  grun'  fra 
Lick-my  loof.  It  wadna  be  an  ill  muv,  I  do  believe, 
laird,  for  aither  pairt.     Consider  o'  't,  sir." 

The  laird  saw  that  they  might  at  least  be  better 
accommodated  at  the  castle  than  the  cottage.  He 
would  consult  his  son,  he  said.  Cosmo  in  his  turn 
consulted  Aggie,  and  was  satisfied.  In  the  winter  the 
wind  blew  through  the  cottage  bitterly,  she  said. 

As  soon  as  it  was  settled,  Cosmo  went  to  call  on 
his  lordship,  and  was  shown  into  his  library. 

His  lordship  guessed  his  errand,  for  his  keen  eye 
had  that  same  morning  perceived  signs  of  change 
about  the  cottage.  He  received  him  with  politeness, 
and  begged  to  know  wherein  he  could  serve  him. 
From  his  changed  behaviour  Cosmo  thought  he  must 
be  sorry  for  the  way  he  had  spoken  to  the  laird. 

"My  father  sent  me,"  he  said,  "to  inform  your 


grizzie's  rights.  537 

lordship  that  he  is  now  at  length  in  a  position  to 
treat  with  your  lordship  concerning  the  proposal  to 
purchase  James  Gracie's  croft." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  your  father,"  replied  Lord 
Lick-my-loof,  softly  wiping  one  hand  with  the  other, 
"  for  his  attention,  but  I  have  no  longer  any  desire  to 
secure  the  land.  It  has  been  so  long  denied  me, 
that  at  length  I  have  grown  indifferent  to  the  posses- 
sion of  it.  That  is  a  merciful  provision  of  the 
Creator,  that  the  human  mind  should  have  the  faculty 
of  accommodating  itself  to  circumstances,  even  of 
positive  nuisance." 

Cosmo  rose. 

"As  soon  as  you  have  made  up  your  mind,"  added 
his  lordship,  rising  also,  "to  part  with  what  remains 
of  the  property,  including  the  castle^  I  should  be  glad 
to  have  the  refusal  of  that.  It  would  make  a  pictu- 
resque ruin  from  certain  points  of  view  on  the  estate." 

Cosmo  bowed,  and  left  his  lordship  grinning  with 
pleasure. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


ANOTHER    HARVEST. 


The  harvest  brought  again  the  opportunity  of 
earning  a  pound  or  two,  and  Cosmo  was  not  the  man 
to  let  it  slip.  But  he  would  not  go  so  far  from  home 
again,  for,  though  his  father  never  pined  or  com- 
plained, Cosmo  could  see  that  his  days  shrunk  more 
rapidly  when  he  was  not  with  him :  left  alone,  he 
began  at  once  to  go  home  the  faster  —  as  if  another 
dragging  anchor  were  cast  loose,  and  he  was  drawn 
the  more  swiftly  whither  sets  the  tide  of  life.  To  the 
old  and  weary  man  the  life  to  come  showed  as  rest ; 
to  the  young  and  active  Cosmo  it  promised  more 
work.  It  is  all  one  ;  what  we  need  for  rest  as  well  as 
for  labour  is  life ;  more  life  we  want,  and  that  is 
everything.  That  which  is  would  be  more.  The 
eternal  root  causes  us  to  long  for  more  existence, 
more  being,  more  of  God's  making,  less  of  our  own 
unmaking.  Our  very  desire  after  rest  comes  of 
life,  life  so  strong  that  it  recoils  from  weariness. 
The  imperfect  needs  to  be  more  —  must  grow.     The 

538 


ANOTHER    HARVEST.  539 

sense  of  growth,  of  ever  enlarging  existence,  is 
essential  to  the  created  children  of  an  infinite  Father  ; 
for  in  the  children  the  paternal  infinite  goes  on 
working  —  by  them  recognizable,  not  as  infinitude, 
but  as  growth. 

The  best  thing  in  sight  for  both  father  and  son 
seemed  to  Cosmo  a  place  in  Lord  Lick-my-loof's  har- 
vest—  an  engagement  to  reap,  amongst  the  rest,  the 
fields  that  had  so  lately  been  his  own.  He  would 
then  be  almost  within  sight  of  his  father  when  not 
with  him.  He  applied,  therefore,  to  the  grieve^  the 
same  man  v.ith  whom  he  had  all  but  fought  that  mem- 
orable Sunday  of  Trespass.  Though  of  a  coarse,  the 
man  was  not  of  a  spiteful  nature,  and  that  he  had 
quarrelled  with  another  was  not  to  him  sufficient  rea- 
son for  hating  him  ever  after ;  yet,  as  he  carried  the 
application  to  his  lordship,  for  he  dared  not  without 
his  master's  leave  engage  to  his  service  the  man  he 
counted  his  enemy,  it  gave  him  pleasure  to  see  what 
he  called  poor  pride  brought  to  the  shame  of  what  he 
called  beggary  —  as  if  the  labour  of  a  gentleman's 
hands  were  not  a  good  deal  further  from  beggary  than 
the  living  upon  money  gained  anyhow  by  his  ancestors  ! 

Lord  Lick-my-loof  smouldered  awhile  before  giving 
an  answer.  The  question  was,  which  would  most 
gratify  the  feelings  he  cherished  tov/ards  the  man  of 
old  blood,  high  station,  and  evil  fortunes  —  to  accept 
or  refuse  the  offered  toil.  His  deliberation  ended  in 
his  giving  orders  to  the  bailiff  to  fee  the  young  laird, 
but  to  mind  he  did  not  pay  workman's  wages  for  gen- 
tleman's work  —  which  injunction  the  bailiff  allowed 
to  reach  Cosmo's  ears. 


540  WARLOCK    O     GLEN  WARLOCK.. 

The  young  laird,  as  they  all  called  him,  was  a 
favourite  with  his  enemy's  men — partly,  that  they  did 
not  love  their  master,  and  were  the  more  ready  to 
side  with  the  man  he  oppressed ;  partly,  because  they 
admired  the  gentleman  who  so  cheerfully  descended 
to  their  level,  and,  showing  neither  condescension  nor 
chagrin,  was  in  all  simplicity  friendly  with  them;  and 
partly,  because  some  of  them  had  been  to  his  evening- 
school  the  last  winter,  and  had  become  attached  to 
him.  No  honest  heart  indeed  could  be  near  Cosmo 
long  and  not  love  him  — for  the  one  reason  that  hu- 
manity was  in  him  so  largely  developed.  To  him  a 
man  was  a  man  whatever  his  position  or  calling;  he 
beheld  neither  in  the  great  man  a  divinity,  nor  in  the 
small  man  a  slave ;  but  honoured  in  his  heart  every 
image  of  the  living  God  it  had  pleased  that  God  to 
make — honoured  every  man  as,  if  not  already  such  in 
the  highest  sense,  yet  destined  to  be  one  day  a 
brother  of  Jesus  Christ. 

In  the  arrangement  of  the  mowers,  the  grieve 
placed  Cosmo  last,  as  presumably  the  least  capable, 
that  he  might  not  lower  the  rate  of  the  field.  But 
presently  Cosmo  contrived  to  make  his  neighbour  in 
front  a  little  uneasy  about  his  legs,  and  when  the  man 
humourously  objected  to  having  them  cut  off,  asked 
him,  for  the  joke  of  the  thing,  to  change  places  with 
him.  The  man  at  once  consented ;  the  rest  behaved 
with  equal  courtesy,  showing  no  desire  to  contest  with 
him  the  precedence  of  labour;  before  the  end  of  the 
long  bout,  Cosmo  swung  the  leading  scythe;  and 
many  were  the  compliments  he  received  from  his 
companions,  as  they  stood  sharpening  for  the  next,  in 


ANOTHER    HARVEST.  54I 

which  they  were  of  one  mind  lie  must  take  the  lead, 
some  begging  him  however  to  be  considerate,  as  they 
were  not  all  so  young  as  he,  while  others  warned  him 
that,  if  he  went  on  as  he  had  begun,  he  could  not 
keep  it  up,  but  the  first  would  be  the  last  before  the 
day  was  over.  Cosmo  listened,  and  thereafter  re- 
strained himself,  having  no  right  to  overwork  his 
companions ;  yet  notwithstanding  he  had  cause,  many 
a  time  in  after  life,  to  remember  the  too  great  exer- 
tion of  that  day.  Even  in  the  matter  of  work  a  man 
has  to  learn  that  he  is  not  his  own,  but  has  a  master, 
whom  he  must  not  serve  as  if  he  were  a  hard  one. 
When  our  will  goes  hand  in  hand  with  God's,  then 
aVe  we  fellow-workers  with  him  in  the  aifairs  of  the 
universe  —  not  mere  discoverers  of  his  ways,  watch- 
ing at  the  putskirts  of  things,  but  labourers  with  him 
at  the  heart  of  them. 

The  next  day  Lord  Lick-my-loof's  shadow  was 
upon  the  field,  and  there  he  spent  some  time  watch- 
ing how  things  went. 

Now  Grizzie  and  Aggie,  irrespective  of  Cosmo's 
engagement,  of  which  at  the  time  they  were  unaware, 
had  laid  their  heads  together,  and  concluded  that, 
although  they  could  not  both  be  at  once  away  from 
the  castle,  they  might  between  them,  with  the  con- 
nivance of  the  bailiff,  do  a  day's  work  and  earn  a 
day's  wages ;  and  although  the  grieve  would  certainly 
have  listened  to  po  such  request  from  Grizzie  in  per- 
son, he  was  incapable  of  refusing  it  to  Aggie. 
Hence  it  followed  that  Grizzie,  in  her  turn  that 
morning,  was  gathering  to  Cosmo's  scythe,  hanging 
her  labour  on  that  of  the  young  laird  with  as  devoted 


542  WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

a  heart  as  if  he  had  been  a  priest  at  the  high  altar, 
and  she  his  loving  acolyte.  I  doubt  if  his  lordship 
would  have  just  then  approached  Cosmo,  had  he 
noted  who  the  woman  was  that  went  stooping  along 
behind  the  late  heir  of  the  land,  now  a  labourer 
upon  it  for  the  bread  of  his  household. 

"  Weel,  Glenwarlock  !  "  said  the  old  man,  giving  a 
lick  to  the  palm  of  his  right  hand  as  he  stopped  in 
front  of  the  nearing  mower,  "  ye're  a  famous  han'  at 
the  scythe !  The  corn  boos  doon  afore  ye  like  the 
stooks   to  Joseph." 

"  I  hae  a  guid  arm  an'  a  sharp  scythe,  my  lord," 
answered  Cosmo  cheerily. 

"  Whisht,  whisht,  my  lord  !  "  said  Grizzle.  "  Gien 
the  corn  hear  ye,  it  '11  stan'  up  again  an'  cry  out. 
Hearken  til  't." 

The  morning  had  been  very  still,  but  that  moment 
a  gust  of  wind  came  and  set  all  the  corn  rust- 
ling. 

"  What !  you  here  !  —  Crawford,  you  rascal !  "  cried 
his  lordship,  looking  round,  ^'  turn  this  old  cat  out  of 
the  field." 

But  he  looked  in  vain ;  the  grieve  was  nowhere  in 
sight. 

"  The  deil  sew  up  yer  lordship's  moo'  wi'  an  awn 
o'  beer  !  "  {a  beard  of  ba7'ley)  cried  Grizzle.  "  Haith, 
gien  I  be  a  cat,  ye  s'  hear  me  curse  !  " 

His  lordship  bethought  himself,  that  she  would 
certainly  disgrace  him  in  the  hearing  of  his  labourers 
if  he  provoked  her  further,  for  a  former  encounter 
had  revealed  that  she  knew  things  not  to  his  credit. 
They  were  all  working  away  as  if  they  had  not  an 


ANOTHER    HARVEST.  543 

ear  amongst  them,  but  almost  all  of  them  heard 
every  word. 

"  Hoots,  wuman ! "  he  said,  in  an  altered  tone, 
"  canna  ye  tak  a  jeist  ?  " 

"  Na ;  there's  ower  mony  o'  ye  lordship's  jeists 
hae  turnt  fearsome  earnest  to  them  at  tuik 
them!" 

"What  mean  ye,  wmnan?" 

"  Wuman  !  quo'  he  ?  My  name's  Grisel  Grant. 
Wha  kens  na  auld  Grizzle,  'at  never  turnt  her  back 
on  freen'  or  foe  ?  But  I'm  no  gaein  til  affront  yer 
lordship  wi'  the  sicht  o'  yersel'  afore  fowk  —  sae 
long,  that  is,  as  ye  haud  a  quaiet  souch.  But  gie  the 
yoong  laird  there  ony  o'  the  dirt  ye're  aye  lickin'  oot 
o'  yer  loof,  an'  the  auld  cat  '11  be  cryin'  upo"  the 
hoose-tap ! " 

"  Grizzle  !  Grizzle  !  "  cried  Cosmo,  ceasing  his 
work  and  coming  back  to  where  they  stood,  "  ye'll 
ruin  a' !  " 

"  What  is  there  to  ruin  'at  he  can  ruin  mair  ?  " 
returned  Grizzle.  "  Whan  yer  back's  to  the  wa', 
ye  canna  fa'.  An  angry  chiel'  'ill  ca'  up  the  deil ; 
but  an  angr\-  wife  '11  gar  him  rin  for  's  life.  When 
I'm  angert,  I  fear  no  aiven  his  lordship  there  ! " 

Lord  Lick-my-loof  turned  and  went,  and  Grizzle 
set  to  work  like  a  iury,  probably  stung  by  the  sense 
that  she  had  gone  too  far.  Old  woman  as  she  was, 
she  had  soon  overtaken  Cosmo,  but  he  was  sorely 
vexed,  and  did  not  speak  to  her.  When  after  a  while 
the  heat  of  her  wrath  was  abated,  Grizzle  could  not  en- 
dure the  silence,  for  in  every  motion  of  Cosmo's  body 
before  her  she  read  that  she  had  hurt  him  grievously. 


544  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Laird  !  "  she  cried  at  last,  "  my  stren'th's  gane 
frae  me.     Gien  ye  dinna  speyk  to  me,  I'll  drap." 

Cosmo  stopped  his  scythe  in  mid  swing,  and  turned 
to  her.     How  could  he  resist  such  an  appeal ! 

"  Grizzie,"  he  said,  "  I  winna  deny  'at  ye  hae  vext 
me,  —  " 

"  Ye  needna  ;  I  wadna  believe  ye.  But  ye  dinna 
ken  yon  man  as  I  du,  or  ye  wadna  be  sae  sair  angert 
at  onything  wuman  cud  say  til  'im.  Gien  I  was 
to  tell  ye  what  I  ken  o'  'im,  ye  wad  be  affrontit  afore 
me,  auld  wife  as  I  am.  Haith,  ye  wadna  du  anither 
stroke  for  'im  !  " 

"  It's  for  the  siller,  no  for  him^  Grizzie.  But  gien 
he  war  as  ill  as  ye  ca'  'im,  a'  the  same,  as  ye  weel 
ken,  the  Lord  maks  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil 
an'  on  the  good,  an'  sen's  rain  on  the  just  an* 
on  the  unjust !  " 

"  Ow  ay !  the  Lord  can  afoord  it !  "  remarked 
Grizzie. 

"An'  them  'at  wad  be  his,  maun  afoord  it  tu, 
Grizzie  !  "  returned  Cosmo.  "  Whaur's  the  guid 
o'  ca'in'  ill  names,  'uman  }  " 

"  Ill's  the  trowth  o'  them  'at  's  ill.  What  for  no  set 
ill  names  to  ill  duers  ?  " 

"  Cause  a  christian  's  b'un'  to  destroy  the  warks  o' 
the  evil  ane  ;  an'  ca'in'  names  raises  mair  o'  them. 
The  only  thing  'at  maks  awa'  wi'  ill,  is  the  man 
himsel'  turnin'  again'  't,  an'  that  he'll  never  du  for  ill 
names.  Ye  wad  never  gar  me  repent  that  gait, 
Grizzie.     Hae  mercy  upo'  the  auld  sinner,  'uman." 

The  pace  at  which  they  were  making  up  for 
lost   time   was    telling   upon    Grizzie,  and    she    was 


ANOTHER    HARVEST.  545 

silent.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was  upon  another 
subject. 

"  I  cud  jest  throttle  that  grieve  there  !  "  she  said. 
"To  see  'im  the  nicht  afore  last  come  hame  to  the 
verra  yett  wi'  Aggie,  was  enouch  to  anger  the  sanct 
'at  I'm  no." 

Jealousy  sent  a  pang  through  the  heart  of  Cosmo. 
Was  not  Aggie  one  of  the  family  —  more  like  a  sister 
to  him  than  any  other  could  ever  be  }  The  thought 
of  her  and  a  man  like  Crawford  was  unendurable. 

"  She  cudna  weel  help  hersel',''  he  rejoined  ;  "  an' 
whaur's  the  maitter,  sae  lang  as  she  has  naething  to 
say  til  'im  ? " 

"  An'  wha  kens  hoo  lang  that  may  be  ?  "  returned 
Grizzie.  "  The  hert  o'  a  wuman  's  no  deceitfu'  as  the 
Bulk  says  o'  a, man  's,  an'  sae  's  a  heap  the  easier  de- 
ceivt.  The  chield's  no  ill-luikin' !  an'  I  s'  warran' 
he's  no  sae  rouch  wi'  a  yoong  lass  as  wi'  an  auld 
wife." 

"Grizzie,  ye  wadna  mint  'at  oor  Aggie's  ane  to  be 
ta'en  wi'  the  luiks  o'  a  man ! " 

"What  for  no  —  whan  it  's  a'  the  man  has!  A 
wuman's  hert's  that  saft,  whiles,  'at  she'll  jist  tak  'im, 
no  to  be  sair  upon  'im.  I  wadna  warran'  ony  lass ! 
Gien  the  fallow  cairr}^  a  fair  face,  she'll  sweir  her  con- 
science doon  he  maun  hae  a  guid  hert." 

Thus  Grizzie  turned  the  tables  upon  Cosmo,  and 
sheltered  herself  behind  them.  Scarcely  a  word  did 
he  speak  the  rest  of  the  morning. 

At  noon,  when  toil  gladly  made  way  for  dinner, 
they  all  sat  down  among  the  stooks  to  eat  and  drink 
■ — all  except  Grizzie,  wlio,  appropriating  an  oatcake 


546         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

the  food  she  and  Aggie  had  a  right  to  between  them, 
carried  it  home,  and  laid  the  greater  part  aside. 
Cosmo  ate  and  drank  with  the  rest  of  the  labourers, 
and  enjoyed  the  homely  repast  as  much  as  any  of 
them.  By  the  time  the  meal  was  over,  Aggie  had  ar- 
rived to  take  Grizzle's  place. 

It  was  a  sultry  afternoon  ;  and  what  with  the  heat 
and  the  annoyance  of  the  morning  from  Grizzle's 
tongue  and  her  talk  concerning  Agnes,  the  scythe 
hung  heavy  in  Cosmo's  hands,  nor  had  Aggie  to 
work  her  hardest  to  keep  up  with  him.  But  she  was 
careful  to  maintain  her  proper  distance  from  him,  for 
she  knew  that  the  least  suspicion  of  relaxing  effort 
would  set  him  off  like  a  thrashing  machine.  He  led 
the  field,  nevertheless,  at  fair  speed;  his  fellow 
labourers  were  content ;  and  the  bailiff  made  no  re- 
mark. But  he  was  so  silent,  and  prolonged  silence 
was  so  unusual  between  them,  that  Aggie  was  dis- 
quieted. 

"  Are  ye  no  weel,  Cosmo  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Weel  eneuch,  Aggie,"  he  answered.  "What 
gars  ye  speir  ?  " 

"Ye're  haudin'  yer  tongue  sae  sair.  —  And,"  she 
added,  for  she  caught  sight  of  the  bailiff  approaching, 
"  ye  hae  lost  the  last  inch  or  twa  o'  yer  stroke." 

"I'll  tell  ye  a'  aboot  it  as  we  gang  hame,"  he  an- 
swered, swinging  his  scythe  in  the  arc  of  a  larger 
circle. 

The  bailiff  came  up. 

"  Dinna  warstle  yersel'  to  death,  Aggie,"  he  said. 

"  I  maun  baud  up  wi'  my  man,"  she  replied. 

"He's  a  het  man  at  the  scythe  —  ower  het!     He'll 


ANOTHER    HARVKST.  547 

be  fit  for  naething  or  the  week  be  oot.  He  canna 
baud  on  at  this  rate  ! " 

"Ay  can  he  — fine  that !  Ye  dinna  ken  oor  yoong 
laird.  He's  worth  twa  ordinar'  men.  An'  gien  ye 
dinna  think  me  fit  to  gather  til'  'im,  I  s'  lat  ye  see 
ye're  mistaen,  Mr.  Crawford." 

And  Aggie  went  on  gathering  faster  and  faster. 

"  Hoots ! "  said  the  bailiff,  going  up  to  her,  and 
laying  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  "  I  ken  weel  ye  hae 
the  spunk  to  work  till  ye  drap.  But  there's  na  occa- 
sion the  noo.  Sit  ye  doon  an'  tak  yer  breath  a  meen- 
ute  —  here  i'  the  shaidow  o'  this  stock.  Whan  Glen- 
warlock's  at  the  tither  en',  we'll  set  tu  thegither  an' 
be  up  wi'  him  afore  he's  had  time  to  put  a  fresh  edge 
on  's  scythe.  Come,  Aggie  !  I  hae  lang  been  thinkin' 
lang  to  hae  a  word  wi'  ye.  Ye  left  me  or  I  kent 
whaur  I  was  the  ither  nicht." 

"  My  time's  no  my  ain,"  answered  Aggie. 

"  Whause  is  't  than  ?  " 

"  While's  it's  the  laird's,  an'  while's  it's  my  father's, 
an'  noo  it's  his  lordship's." 

"  It's  yer  ain  sae  lang's  I'm  at  the  heid  o'  's  lord- 
ship's affairs." 

"  Na ;  that  canna  be.  He's  boucht  my  time,  an' 
he'll  pey  me  for  't,  an'  he  s'  hae  his  ain." 

*'  Ye  needna  consider  'im  mair  nor  rizzon  :  he's 
been  nae  freen'  to  you  or  yours." 

"  What's  that  to  the  p'int  ?  " 

"  A'  thing  to  the  p'int  —  wi'  me  here  to  haud  it 
richt  atween  ye." 

"  Ca'  ye  that  haudin'  o'  't  richt,  to  temp'  me  to 
wrang   'im  ? "  said   Aggie,  going  steadily  on   at  her 


548  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

gathering,  while  the  grieve  kept  following  her  step 
by  step. 

"  Ye're  unco  short  wi'  a  body,  Aggie  !  " 

"  I  weel  may  be,  whan  a  body  wad  hae  me  neglec* 
my  paid  wark." 

"  Weel,  I  reckon  ye're  i'  the  richt  o'  't  efter  a',  sae 
I'll  jist  fa'  tu,  an'  len'  ye  a  han'." 

He  had  so  far  hindered  her  that  Cosmo  had  gained 
a  little ;  and  now  in  pretending  to  help,  he  contrived 
to  hinder  her  yet  more.  Still  she  kept  near  enough 
to  Cosmo  to  prevent  the  grieve  from  saying  much, 
and  by  and  by  he  left  her. 

When  they  dropped  work  for  the  night,  he  would 
have  accompanied  her  home,  but  she  never  left 
'Cosmo's  side,  and  they  went  away  together. 

"  Aggie,"  said  Cosmo,  as  soon  as  there  was  no  one 
within  hearing,  "  I  dinna  like  that  chield  hingin' 
aboot  ye  —  glowerin'  at  ye  as  gien  he  wad  ate  ye." 

"  He  winna  du  that,  Cosmo  ;  he's  ceevil  eneuch." 

"  Ye  sud  hae  seen  sae  rouch  as  he  was  to  Grizzle !  " 

"  Grizzle's  some  rouch  hersel'  whiles,"  remarked 
Aggie  quietly. 

"  That's  ower  true,"  assented  Cosmo ;  "  but  a  man 
sud  never  behave  like  that  til  a  wuman." 

"  Say  that  to  the  man,"  rejoined  Aggie.  "  The 
wuman  can  haud  aff  o'  hersel'." 

"  Grizzle,  I  grant  ye,  's  mair  nor  a  match  for  ony 
jnan ;  but  ye're  no  sae  lang  i'  the  tongue,  Aggie." 

"  Think  ye  a  lang  tongue  's  a  lass's  safety,  Cosmo  ? 
I  wad  awe  nane  til  't !  But  what's  ta'en  ye  the  nicht, 
at  ye  speyk  to  me  sae  ?     I  ken  no  occasion." 

"  Aggie,  I  wadna  willinl'y  say  a  word  to  vex  ye," 


ANOTHER    HARVEST.  549 

answered  Cosmo ;  "  but  I  hae  notit  an  h'ard  'at  the 
best  'o  wuman  whiles  tak  oonaccootable  fancies  to  men 
no  fit  to  haud  a  can'le  to  them." 

Aggie  turned  her  head  aside. 

"  I  wad  ill  like  you,  for  instance,  to  be  drawn  to 
yon  Crawford,"  he  went  on.  "  It's  eneuch  to  me  'at 
he's  been  lang  the  factotum  o'  an  ill  man." 

A  slight  convulsive  movement  passed  across  Aggie's 
face,  leaving  behind  it  a  shadow  of  hurtless  resent- 
ment, yielding  presently  to  a  curious  smile. 

"  I  micht  mak  a  better  man  o'  'im,"  she  said,  and 
again  looked  away. 

"  They  a'  think  that,  I'm  thinkin' ! "  returned 
Cosmo  with  a  sad  bitterness.  "  An'  sae  they  wuU, 
to  the  warl's  en'.  —  But,  Aggie,"  he  added,  after  a 
pause,  "  ye  ken  ye're  no  to  be  oonaiqually  yokit." 

"That's  what  I  hae  to  heed,  I  ken,"  murmured 
Aggie.  "  But  what  do  ye  un'erstan'  by  't,  Cosmo  ? 
There's  nae  'worshippers  o'  idols  the  noo,  as  i'  the 
days  whan  the  apostle  said  that." 

"  There's  idols  visible,  an'  idols  invisible," 
answered  Cosmo.  "  There's  heaps  o'  idols  amo' 
them  'at  ca's  themsel's  an'  's  coontit  christians.  Gien 
a  man  set  himsel'  to  lay  by  siller,  he's  the  worship- 
per o'  as  oogly  an  idol  as  gien  he  said  his  prayers  to 
the  fish-tailt  god  o'  the  Philistines." 

"  Weel  I  wat  that !  "  returned  Agnes,  and  a  silence 
followed. 

"  You  an'  me's  aye  been  true  til  ane  anither,  Aggie," 
resumed  Cosmo  at  length,  "  an'  I  wad  fain  hae  a 
promise  frae  ye  —  jist  to  content  me." 

"  What  aboot,  Cosmo  ?  " 


550  WARLOCK    O     GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  Promise,  an'  I'll  tell  ye,  as  the  bairnies  say." 

"  But  we're  no  bairnies,  Cosmo,  an'  1  daurna  — 
even  to  you  'at  I  wad  trust  like  the  Bible.  Tell  me 
what  it  is,  an'  gien  I  may,  I  wull." 

"  It's  no  muckle  atween  you  an'  me,  Aggie.  It's 
only  this  —  'at  gien  ever  ye  fa'  in  love  wi'  onybody, 
ye'll  let  me  ken." 

Agnes  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then,  with  a 
tremble  in  her  voice,  which  in  vain  she  sought  to 
smooth  out,  and  again  turning  her  head  away, 
answered : 

"  Cosmo,  I  daurna." 

"  I  want  naething  mair,'^  said  Cosmo,  thinking  she 
must  have  misapprehended,  "nor  the  promise  'at 
what  ye  ken  I  sail  ken.  I  wad  fain  be  wi'  ye  at  sic  a 
time." 

"  Cosmo,"  said  Aggie  with  much  solemnity, 
"  there's  ane  at's  aye  at  han',  ane  that  sticketh  closer 
nor  a  brither.  The  thing  ye  require  o'  me,  micht  be 
what  a  lass  could  tell  to  nane  but  the  father  o'  her  — 
him  'at  's  in  haiven." 

Cosmo  was  silenced,  as  indeed  it  was  time  and 
reason  he  should  be ;  for  had  she  been  his  daughter, 
he  would  have  had  no  right  to  make  such  a  request 
of  her.  He  did  it  in  all  innocence,  and  might  well 
have  asked  her  to  tell  him,  but  not  to  promise  to  tell 
him.  He  did  not  yet  understand  however  that  he 
was  wrong,  and  was  the  more  troubled  about  her, 
feeling  as  if,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  Aggie  and 
he  had  begun  to  be  divided. 

They  entered  the  kitchen.  Aggie  hastened  to  help 
Grizzle  lay  the  cloth  for  supper.     Her  grandfather 


ANOTHER    HARVEST. 


SSI 


looked  up  with  a  smile  from  the  newspaper  he  was 
reading  in  the  window.  The  laird,  who  had  an  old 
book  in  his  hand,  called  out, 

"  Here,  Cosmo  !  jist  hearken  to  this  bit  o'  wisdom, 
my  man  —  frae  a  hert  doobtless  praisin'  God  this 
mony  a  day  in  higher  warl's :  —  'He  that  would 
always  know  before  he  trusts,  who  would  have  from 
his  God  a  promise  before  he  will  expect,  is  the  slayer 
of  his  own  eternity.' " 

The  words  mingled  strangely  with  what  had  just 
passed  between  him  and  Agnes.  Both  they  and  that 
gave  him  food  for  thought,  but  could  not  keep  him 
awake. 

The  bailiff  continued  to 'haunt  the  goings  and 
comings  of  Agnes,  but  few  supposed  his  attentions 
acceptable  to  her.  Cosmo  continued  more  and  less 
uneasy. 

The  harvest  was  over  at  length,  and  the  little 
money  earned  mostly  laid  aside  for  the  sad  winter, 
once  more  on  its  way.  But  no  good  hope  dies  with- 
out leaving  a  child,  a  younger  and  fresher  hope,  be- 
hind it.  The  year's  fruit  must  fall  that  the  next 
year's  may  come,  and  the  winter  is  the  only  way  to 
the  spring. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    FINAL   CONFLICT. 

As  there  was  no  more  weekly  pay  for  teaching,  and 
no  extra  hands  were  longer  wanted  far  farm-labour, 
Cosmo,  hearing  there  was  a  press  of  work  and  a 
scarcity  of  workmen  in  the  building-line,  offered  his 
services,  at  what  wages  he  should  upon  trial  judge 
them  worth,  to  Sandy  Shand,  the  mason,  then  erect- 
ing a  house  in  the  village  for  a  certain  Mr.  Pennycuik 
—  a  native  of  the  same,  who,  having  left  it  long  ago, 
and  returned  from  India  laden  with  riches,  now  de- 
sired, if  not  to  end,  yet  to  spend  his  days  amid  the 
associations  of  his  youth.  Upon  this  liouse,  his  offer 
accepted,  Cosmo  laboured,  now  doing  the  work  of  a 
mason,  now  of  a  carpenter,  and  receiving  fair  wages, 
until  such  time  when  the  weather  put  a  stop  to  all  but 
in-door  work  of  the  kind.  But  the  strange  thing  was, 
that,  instead  of  reaping  golden  opinions  for  his  read- 
iness to  turn  his  hand  to  anything  honest  by  which  he 
could  earn  a  shilling,  Cosmo  became  in  consequence 
the  object  of  endless  blame  —  that  a  young  man  of 

552 


THE   FINAL   CONFLICT.  553 

his  abilities,  with  a  college-education,  should  spend 
his  time  —  waste  it,  people  said  —  at  home,  pottering 
about  at  work  that  was  a  disgrace  to  a  gentleman,  in- 
stead of  going  away  and  devoting  himself  to  some 
honourable  calling.  "  Look  at  Mr.  Pennycuik ! "  they 
said.  "  See  how  he  has  raised  himself  in  the  social 
scale,  and  that  without  one  of  the  young  laird's  advan- 
tages !  There  he  stands,  a  rich  man  and  employer  of 
labour,  while  the  poor-spirited  gentleman  is  one  of 
his  hired  labourers!"  Such  is  the  mean  idea  most 
men  have  of  the  self-raising  that  is  the  duty  of  a  man ! 
They  speak  after  their  kind,  putting  ambition  in  the 
place  of  aspiration.  Not  knowing  the  spirit  they 
were  of,  these  would  have  had  Cosmo  say  to  his 
father,  Korban.  They  knew  nothing  of,  and  were  in- 
capable of  taking  into  the  account  certain  moral  re- 
finements and  delicate  difficulties  entailed  upon  him 
by  that  father,  such  as  might  indeed  bring  him  to  beg- 
gary, but  could  never  allow  him  to  gather  riches  like 
those  of  Mr.  Pennycuik.  Like  his  father  he  had  a 
holy  weakness  for  the  purity  that  gives  arms  of  the 
things  within  us.  If  there  is  one  thing  a  Christian 
soul  recoils  from,  it  is  meanness — of  action,  of 
thought,  of  judgment.  What  a  heaven  some  must 
think  to  be  saved  into !  At  the  same  time  Cosmo 
would  not  have  left  his  father  to  make  a  fortune  the 
most  honourable. 

Through  stress  of  weather,  Cosmo  was  therefore 
thrown  back  once  more  upon  his  writing.  But  still, 
whether  it  was  that  there  was  too  little  of  Grizzle  or 
too  much  of  himself  in  these  later  stories,  his  work 
seemed  to  have  lost  either  the  power  or  the  peculiar- 


554 


WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 


ity  that  had  recommended  it.  Things  therefore  did 
not  look  promising.  But  they  had  a  fair  stock  of  oat- 
meal laid  in,  and  that  was  the  staff  of  life,  also  a  tol- 
erable supply  of  fuel,  which  neighbours  had  lent  them- 
horses  to  bring  from  the  peat-moss. 

With  the  cold  weather  the  laird  began  again  to  fail, 
and  Cosmo  to  fear  that  this  would  be  the  last  of  the 
good  man's  winters.  As  the  best  protection  from  the 
cold  he  betook  himself  to  bed,  and  Cosmo  spent  his 
life  almost  in  the  room,  reading  aloud  when  the  old 
man  was  able  to  listen,  and  reading  to  himself  or 
writing  when  he  was  not.  The  other  three  of  the 
household  were  mostly  in  the  kitchen,  saving  fuel, 
and  keeping  each  other  company.  And  thus  the 
little  garrison  awaited  the  closer  siege  of  the  slow-be- 
leaguering winter,  most  of  them  in  their  hearts  mak- 
ing themselves  strong  to  resist  the  more  terrible  ene- 
mies which  all  winter-armies  bring  flying  on  their 
flanks — the  haggard  fiends  of  doubt  and  dismay — 
which  creep  through  the  strongest  walls.  To  trust 
in  spite  of  the  look  of  being  forgotten ;  to  keep  cry- 
ing out  into  the  vast  whence  comes  no  voice,  and 
where  seems  no  hearing;  to  struggle  after  light,  wliere 
is  no  glimmer  to  guide ;  at  every  turn  to  find  a  door- 
less  wall,  yet  ever  seek  a  door ;  to  see  the  machinery 
of  the  world  pauseless  grinding  on  as  if  self-moved, 
caring  for  no  life,  nor  shifting  a  hair's-breadth  for  all 
entreaty,  and  yet  believe  that  God  is  awake  and  ut- 
terly loving ;  to  desire  nothing  but  what  comes  meant 
for  us  from  his  hand ;  to  wait  patiently,  willing,  to  die 
of  hunger,  fearing  only  lest  faith  should  fail  —  such  is 
the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  such  is  faith 


THE    FINAL    CONFLICT.  555 

indeed.  After  such  victory  Cosmo  had  to  strive  and 
pray  hard,  sometimes  deep  sunk  in  the  wave  while 
his  father  floated  cahn  on  its  crest:  the  old  man's 
discipline  had  been  longer;  a  continuous  communion 
had  for  man}  years  been  growing  closer  between  him 
and  the  heart  whence  he  came. 

"  As  I  lie  here,  warm  and  free  of  pain,"  he  said 
once  to  his  son,  "  expecting  the  redemption  of  my 
body,  1  cannot  tell  you  how  happy  I  am.  I  cannot 
think  how  ever  in  my  life  I  feared  anything.  God 
knows  it  was  my  obligation  to  others  that  oppressed 
me,  but  now,  in  my  utter  incapacity,  I  am  able  to 
trust  him  with  my  honour,  and  my  duty,  as  well  as  my 
sin." 

"  Look  here,  Cosmo,"  he  said  another  time ;  "  I 
had  temptations  such  as  you  would  hardly  think,  to 
better  my  worldly  condition,  and  redeem  the  land 
of  my  ancestors,  and  the  world  would  have  com- 
mended, not  blamed  me,  had  I  yielded.  But  my 
God  was  with  me  all  the  time,  and  I  am  dying  a 
poorer  man  than  my  father  left  me,  leaving  you  a 
poorer  man  still,  but,  praised  be  God,  an  honest  one. 
Be  very  sure,  my  son,  God  is  the  only  adviser  to  be 
trusted,  and  you  must  do  what  he  tells  you,  even  if  it 
lead  you  to  a  stake,  to  be  burned  by  the  slow  fire  of 
poverty.  —  O  my  Father!"  cried  the  old  man,  break- 
ing out  suddenly  in  prayer,  "  my  soul  is  a  flickering 
flame  of  which  thou  art  the  eternal,  inextinguishable 
fire.  I  am  blessed  because  thou  art.  Because  thou  art 
life,  I  live.  Nothing  can  hurt  me,  because  nothing  can 
hurt  thee.  To  thy  care  I  leave  my  son,  for  thou 
loyest  him  as  thou  hast  loved  me.     Deal  with  him  as 


556  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

thou  hast  dealt  with  me.  I  ask  for  nothing,  care  for 
nothing  but  thy  will.  Strength  is  gone  from 
me,  but  my  life  is  hid  in  thee.  I  am  a  feeble  old 
man,  but  I  am  dying  into  the  eternal  day  of  thy 
strength." 

Cosmo  stood  and  listened  with  holy  awe  and  grow- 
ing faith.  For  what  can  help  our  faith  like  the  faith 
of  the  one  we  most  love,  when,  sorely  tried,  it  is  yet 
sound  and  strong ! 

But  there  was  still  one  earthy  clod  clinging  to  the 
heart  of  Cosmo.  There  was  no  essential  evil  in  it, 
yet  not  the  less  it  held  him  back  from  the  freedom  of 
the  man  who,  having  parted  with  everything,  pos- 
sesses all  things.  The  place,  the  things,  the  immedi- 
ate world  in  which  he  was  born  and  had  grown  up, 
crowded  with  the  memories  and  associations  of  child- 
hood and  youth,  amongst  them  the  shadowy  loveli- 
ness of  Lady  Joan,  had  a  hold  of  his  heart  that 
savoured  of  idolatry.  The  love  was  born  in  him,  had 
come  down  into  him  through  generation  after  genera- 
tion of  ancestors,  had  a  power  over  him  for  whose 
existence  he  was  not  accountable,  but  for  whose 
continuance,  as  soon  as  he  became  aware  of  its  ex- 
istence, he  would  know  himself  accountable.  For 
Cosmo  was  not  one  of  those  weaklings  who,  finding 
in  themselves  certain  tendencies  with  whose  existence 
they  had  nothing  to  do,  and  therefore  in  whose  pres- 
ence they  have  no  blame,  say  to  themselves,  "  I  can- 
not help  it,"  and  at  once  create  evil,  and  make  it 
their  own,  by  obeying  the  inborn  impulse.  Inheritors 
of  a  lovely  estate,  with  a  dragon  in  a  den,  which  they 
have  to  kill  that  the  brood  may  perish,  they  make 


THE    FINAL    CONFLICT. 


557 


friends  with  the  dragon,  and  so  think  to  save  them- 
selves trouble. 

But  I  would  not  be  misunderstood  :  I  do  not  think 
Cosmo  loved  his  home  too  much ;  I  only  think  he 
did  not  love  it  enough  in  God.  To  love  a  thing  di- 
vinely, is  to  be  ready  to  yield  it  without  a  pang  when 
God  wills  it ;  but  to  Cosmo,  the  thought  of  parting 
with  the  house  of  his  fathers  and  the  rag  of  land 
that  yet  remained  to  it,  was  torture.  This  hero  of 
mine,  instead  of  sleeping  the  perfect  sleep  of  faith, 
would  lie  open-eyed  through  half  the  night,  hatching 
scheme  after  scheme  —  not  for  the  redemption  of  the 
property  —  even  to  him  that  seemed  hopeless,  but  for 
the  retention  of  the  house.  Might  it  not  at  least  go 
to  ruin  under  eyes  that  loved  it,  and  wdth  the  minis- 
tration of  tender  hands  that  yet  could  not  fast  enough 
close  the  slow-yawning  chasms  of  decay  ?  His  dream 
haunted  him,  and  he  felt  that,  if  it  came  true,  he 
would  rather  live  in  the  dungeon  wine-cellar  of  the 
mouldering  mammoth-tooth,  than  forsake  the  old 
stones  to  live  elsewhere  in  a  palace.  The  love  of  his 
soul  for  Castle  Warlock  was  like  the  love  of  the 
Psalmist  for  Jerusalem  :  when  he  looked  on  a  stone 
of  its  walls,  it  was  dear  to  him.  But  the  love  of 
Jerusalem  became  an  idolatry,  for  the  Jews  no  longer 
loved  it  because  the  living  God  dwelt  therein,  but 
because  it  was  theirs^  and  then  it  was  doomed,  for  it 
was  an  idol.  The  thing  was  somewhat  different  wdth 
Cosmo  :  the  house  was  almost  a  part  of  himself  —  an 
extension  of  his  own  body,  as  much  his  as  the  shell 
of  a  snail  is  his.  But  because  into  this  shell  were 
not  continued  those  nerves  of  life  which  give  the  con- 


558         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

sciousness  of  the  body,  and  there  was  therefore  no 
reaction  from  it  of  those  feeUngs  of  weakness  and 
need  which,  to  such  a  man  as  Cosmo,  soon  reveal  the 
fact  that  he  is  not  lord  of  his  body,  that  he  cannot 
add  to  it  one  cubit,  or  make  one  hair  white  or  black, 
and  must  therefore  leave  the  care  of  it  to  him  who 
made  it,  he  had  to  learn  in  other  ways  that  his  castle 
of  stone  was  God's  also.  His  truth  and  humility  and 
love  had  not  yet  reached  to  the  quickening  of  the 
idea  of  the  old  house  with  the  feeling  that  God  was 
in  it  with  him,  giving  it  to  him.  Not  yet  possessing 
therefore  the  soul  of  the  house,  its  greatest  bliss, 
which  nothing  could  take  from  him,  he  naturally 
could  not  be  content  to  part  with  it.  It  seemed  an 
impossibility  that  it  should  be  taken  from  him — a 
wrong  to  things,  to  men,  to  nature,  that  a  man  like 
Lick-my-loof  shquld  obtain  the  lordship  over  it.  As 
he  lay  in  the  night,  in  the  heart  of  the  old  pile,  and 
heard  the  wind  roaring  about  its  stone-mailed  roofs, 
the  thought  of  losing  it  would  sting  him  almost  to 
madness,  —  hurling  him  from  his  bed  to  the  floor,  to 
pace  up  and  down  the  room,  burning,  in  the  coldest 
midnight  of  winter,  like  one  of  the  children  in  the 
fiery  furnace,  only  the  furnace  was  of  worse  fire, 
being  the  wrath  which  worketh  not  the  righteousness 
of  God. 

Suddenly  one  such  night  he  became  aware  that  he 
could  not  pray  —  that  in  this  mood  he  never  prayed. 
In  every  other  trouble  he  prayed  —  felt  it  the  one 
natural  thing  to  pray !  Why  not  in  this  ?  Some- 
thing must  be  wrong  —  terribly  wrong ! 

It  was  a  stormy  night ;  the  snow-burdened  wind 


THE    FINAL   CONFLICT.  559 

was  raving ;  and  Cosmo  would  have  been  striding 
about  the  room  but  that  now  he  was  in  his  father's, 
and  dreaded  disturbing  him.  He  lay  still,  with 
a  stone  on  his  heart,  for  he  was  now  awake  to  the 
fact  that  he  could  not  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  He 
tried  sore  to  lift  up  his  heart,  but  could  not.  Some- 
thing rose  ever  between  him  and  his  God,  and  beat 
back  his  prayer.  A  thick  fog  was  about  him  —  no 
air  wherewith  to  make  a  cr\' !  In  his  heart  not  one 
prayer  would  come  to  life  ;  it  was  like  an  old  nest 
without  bird  or  egg  in  it. 

It  was  too  terrible  !  Here  was  a  schism  at  the 
very  root  of  his  being.  The  love  of  things  was 
closer  to  him  than  the  love  of  God.  Between  him 
and  God  rose  the  rude  bulk  of  a  castle  of  stone  !  He 
crept  out  of  bed,  laid  himself  on  his  face  on  the 
floor,  and  prayed  in  an  agony.  The  wind  roared  and 
howled,  but  the  desolation  in  his  heart  made  of  the 
storm  a  mere  play  of  the  elements.  How  few  of  my 
readers  will  understand  even  the  possibility  of  such  a 
state  !  How  many  of  them  will  scorn  the  idea  of  it, 
as  that  of  a  man  on  the  high  road  to  insanity ! 

"God,"  he  cried,  "I  thought  I  knew  thee,  and 
sought  thy  will ;  and  I  have  sought  thy  will  in  greater 
things  than  this  wherein  I  now  lie  ashamed  before 
thee.  I  cannot  even  pray  to  thee.  But  hear  thou 
the  deepest  will  in  me,  which,  thou  knowest,  must 
bow  before  thine,  when  once  thou  hast  uttered 
it.  Hear  the  prayer  I  cannot  offer.  Be  my  perfect 
Father  to  fulfil  the  imperfection  of  thy  child.  Be 
God  after,  thy  own  nature,  beyond  my  feeling,  beyond 
my  prayer  —  according  to  that  will  in  me  which  now, 


560  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

for  all  my  trying,  refuses  to  awake  and  arise  from  the 
dead.  O  Christ,  who  knowest  me  better  a  thousand 
times  than  I  know  myself,  whose  I  am,  divinely 
beyond  my  notions  of  thee  and  me,  hear  and  save  me 
eternally,  out  of  thy  eternal  might  whereby  thou 
didst  make  me  and  give  thyself  to  me.  Make  me 
strong  to  yield  all  to  thee.  I  have  no  way  of  con- 
fessing thee  before  men,  but  in  the  depth  of  my 
thought  I  would  confess  thee,  yielding  everything 
but  the  truth,  which  is  thyself ;  and  therefore,  even 
•while  my  heart  hangs  back,  I  force  my  mouth  to  say 
fhe  words —  Take  from  me  what  thou  wilt,  only  make 
me  clean,  pure,  divine.  To  thee  I  yield  the  house  and 
all  that  is  in  it.  It  is  thine,  not  mine.  Give  it  to 
whom  thou  wilt.  I  would  have  nothing  but  what  thou 
.  choosest  shall  be  mine.  I  have  thee,  and  all  things 
are  mine." 

Thus  he  prayed,  thus  he  strove  with  a  reluctant 
heart,  forcing  its  will  by  the  might  of  a  deeper  will, 
that  would  be  for  God  and  freedom,  in  spite  of  the 
cleaving  of  his  soul  to  the  dust. 

Then  for  a  time  thought  ceased  in  exhaustion. 
When  it  returned,  lo  !  he  was  in  peace,  in  the  heart 
of  a  calm  unspeakable.  How  it  came  he  could  not 
tell,  for  he  had  not  been  aware  of  its  approach  ;  but 
the  contest  was  over,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was 
fast  asleep  —  ten  times  his  own  because  a  thousand 
times  another's  —  one  with  him  whom  all  men  in  one 
could  not  comprehend,  whom  yet  the  heart  of  every 
true  child  lays  hold  upon  and  understands. 

I  would  not  have  it  supposed  that,  although  the 
crisis   was  past,  there  was  no  more  stormy  weather. 


THE    FINAL    CONFLICT.  56 1 


Often  it  blew  a  gale  —  often  a  blast  would  come 
creeping  in  —  almost  always  in  the  skirts  of  the  hope 
that  God  w^ould  never  require  such  a  sacrifice  of  him. 
But  he  never  again  found  he  could  not  pray.  Re- 
calling the  strife  and  the  great  peace,  he  made  haste 
to  his  master,  compelling  the  refractory  slave  in  his 
heart  to  be  free,  and  cry,  "  Do  thy  will,  not  mine." 
Then  would  the  enemy  withdraw,  and  again  he 
breathed  the  air  of  the  eternal. 

When  a  man  comes  to  the  point  that  he  will  no 
longer  receive  anything  save  from  the  hands  of  him 
who  has  the  right  to  withhold,  and  in  whose  giving 
alone  lies  the  value  of  possession,  then  is  he  ap- 
proaching the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light,  of 
those  whose  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness. 
But  there  are  those  who  for  the  present  it  is  needless 
to  trouble  any  more  than  the  chickens  about  the  ya:.  a. 
Their  hour  wdll  come,  and  in  the  meantime  they  are 
counted  the  fortunate  ones  of  the  earth. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


A    REST. 


But  now  James  Gracie  fell  sick.  They  removed 
him  therefore  from  the  men's  quarters,  and  gave  him 
Cosmo's  room,  that  he  might  be  better  attended  to, 
and  warmer  than  in  his  own.  Cosmo  put  up  a  bed 
for  himself  in  his  father's  room,  and  Grizzie  and 
Aggie  slept  together ;  so  now  the  household  was 
gathered  literally  under  one  roof  —  that  of  the  kitchen- 
tower,  as  it  had  been  called  for  centuries. 

James's  attack  was  serious,  requiring  much  atten- 
tion, and  involving  an  increase  of  expenditure  which 
it  needed  faith  to  face.  But  of  course  Cosmo  did 
not  shrink  from  it :  so  long  as  his  money  lasted,  his 
money  should  go.  James  himself  objected  bitterly 
to  such  waste,  as  he  called  it,  saying  what  remained 
of  his  life  was  not  worth  it.  But  the  laird,  learning 
the  mood  the  old  man  was  in,  rose,  and  climbed  the 
stair,  and  stood  before  his  bed,  and  said  to  him  sol- 
emnly, "  Jeames,  wha  are  ye  to  tell  the  Lord  it's  time 
he  sud  tak  ye  ^  what  km'  o'  faith  is  't,  to  refuse  a  sup^ 
562 


A    REST.  563 


'cause  ye  see  na  anither  spunefu'  upo'  the  ro'd  ahin' 
't? " 

James  hid  his  old  face  in  his  old  hands.  The 
laird  went  back  to  his  bed,  and  nothing  more  ever 
passed  on  the  subject. 

The  days  went  on,  the  money  ran  fast  away,  no 
prospect  appeared  of  more,  but  still  they  had  enough 
to  eat. 

One  morning  in  the  month  of  January,  still  and 
cold,  and  dark  overhead,  a  cheerless  day  in  whose 
bosom  a  storm  was  coming  to  life,  Cosmo,  sitting  at 
his  usual  breakfast  of  brose,  the  simplest  of  all 
preparations  of  oatmeal,  bethought  himself  whether 
some  of  the  curiosities  in  the  cabinets  in  the  drawing- 
room  might  not,  with  the  help  of  his  friend  the 
jeweller,  be  turned  to  account.  Not  waiting  to  finish 
his  breakfast,  for  which  that  day  he  had  but  little 
relish,  he  rose  and  went  at  once  to  examine  the 
family  treasures  in  the  light  of  necessity. 

The  drawing-room  felt  freezing-dank  like  a  tomb, 
and  looked  weary  of  its  memories.  It  was  so  still 
that  it  seemed  as  if  sound  would  die  in  it.  Not  a 
mouse  stirred.  The  few  pictures  on  the  walls  looked 
perishing  with  cold  and  changelessness.  The  very 
shine  of  the  old  damask  was  wintry.  But  Cosmo 
did  not  long  stand  gazing.  He  crossed  to  one  of  the 
shrines  of  his  childhood's  reverence,  opened  it,  and 
began  to  examine  the  things  with  the  eye  of  a  seller. 
Once  they  had  seemed  treasures  inestimable,  now  he 
feared  they  might  bring  him  nothing  in  his  sore  need. 
Scarce  a  sorrow  at  the  thought  of  parting  M'ith  them 
woke  in  him,  as  one  after  another  he  set  those  aside, 


564  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  took  these  from  their  places  and  put  them  on 
a  table.  He  was  like  a  miner  searching  for  golden 
ore,  not  a  miser  whom  hunger  had  dominated.  The 
sole  question  with  him  was,  would  this  or  that  bring 
money.  When  he  had  gone  through  the  cabinet,  he 
turned  from  it  to  regard  what  he  had  found.  There 
was  a  dagger  in  a  sheath  of  silver  of  raised  work, 
with  a  hilt  cunningly  wrought  of  the  same ;  a  goblet 
of  iron  with  a  rich  pattern  in  gold  beaten  into  it ;  a 
snuff-box  with  a  few  diamonds  set  round  a  monogram 
in  gold  in  the  lid :  these,  with  several  other  smaller 
things  that  had  an  air  of  promise  about  them,  he 
thought  it  might  be  worth  while  to  make  the  trial 
with,  and  packed  them  carefully,  thinking  to  take  them 
at  once  to  Muir  of  Warlock,  and  commit  them  to 
the  care  of  the  carrier.  But  when  he  returned  to  his 
father,  he  found  he  had  been  missing  him,  and  put  off 
going  till  the  next  day. 

As  the  sun  went  down,  the  wind  rose,  and  the 
storm  in  the  bosom  of  the  stillness  came  to  life  — 
the  worst  of  that  winter.  It  reminded  both  father 
and  son  of  the  terrible  night  when  Lord  Mergwain 
went  out  into  the  deep.  The  morning  came,  fierce 
with  gray  cold  age,  a  tumult  of  wind  and  snow. 
There  seemed  little  chance  the  carrier  would  go  for 
days  to  come.  But  the  storm  might  have  been  more 
severe  upon  their  hills  than  in  the  opener  country, 
and  Cosmo  would  go  and  see.  Certain  things  too 
had  to  be  got  for  the  invalids. 

It  was  with  no  small  difficulty  he  made  his  way 
through  the  snow  to  the  village,  and  there  also  he 
found  it  so  deep,  that  the  question  would  have  been 


A    REST.  565 


how  to  get  the  cart  out  of  the  shed,  not  whether  the 
horses  were  Hkely  to  get  it  through  the  Glens  o' 
Fowdlan.  He  left  the  parcel  therefore  with  the 
carrier's  wife,  and  proceeded,  somewhat  sad  at  heart, 
to  spend  the  last  of  his  money,  amounting  to  half-a- 
crown.  Having  done  so,  he  set  out  for  home,  the 
wind  blowing  fierce,  and  the  snow  falling  thick. 

Just  outside  the  village  he  met  a  miserable-looking 
woman,  with  a  child  in  her  arms.  How  she  came  to 
be  there  he  could  not  think.  She  moved  him  with 
the  sense  of  community  in  suffering :  hers  was  the 
greater  share,  and  he  gave  her  the  twopence  he  had 
left.  Prudence  is  but  one  of  the  minor  divinities,  if 
indeed  she  be  anything  better  than  the  shadow  of 
a  virtue,  and  he  took  no  counsel  with  her,  knowing 
that  the  real  divinity,  Love,  would  not  cast  him  out 
for  the  deed.  The  widow  who  gave  the  two  mites 
was  by  no  means  a  prudent  person.  Upon  a  certain 
ancient  cabinet  of  carved  oak  is  represented  Charity, 
gazing  at  the  child  she  holds  on  her  arm,  and  beside 
her  Prudence,  regarding  herself  in  a  mirror. 

Cosmo  had  not  gone  far,  battling  with  wind  and 
snow  above  and  beneath,  before  he  began  to  feel  his 
strength  failing  him.  It  had  indeed  been  failing  for 
some  time.  Grizzle  knew,  although  he  himself  did 
not,  that  he  had  not  of  late  been  eating  so  \vell ;  and 
he  had  never  quite  recovered  his  exertions  in  Lord 
Lick-my-loof's  harvest-fields.  Now,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  he  began  to  find  his  strength  unequal  to 
elemental  war.  But  he  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  held 
on.  The  wind  was  right  in  his  face,  and  the  cold  was 
bitter.     Nor  was  there  within  him,  though  plenty  of 


566  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

courage,  good  spirits  enofugh  to  supply  any  lack  of 
physical  energy.  His  breath  grew  short,  and  his 
head  began  to  ache.  He  longed  for  home  that  he 
might  lie  down  and  breathe,  but  a  long  way  and  a 
great  snowy  wind' were  betwixt  him  and  rest.  He 
fell  into  a  reverie,  and  seemed  to  get  on  better  for 
not  thinking  about  the  exertion  he  had  to  make. 
The  monotony  of  it  at  the  same  time  favoured  the 
gradual  absorption  of  his  thoughts  in  a  dreamy  medi- 
tation. Alternately  sunk  in  himself  for  minutes,  and 
waking  for  a  moment  to  the  consciousness  of  what 
was  around  him,  he  had  walked,  as  it  seemed,  for 
hours,  and  at  length,  all  notion  of  time  and  distance 
gone,  began  to  wonder  whether  he  must  not  be  near 
the  place  where  the  parish-road  turned  off.  He 
stood,  and  sent  sight  into  his  eyes,  but  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  through  the  drift  save  more  drift  behind 
it.  Was  he  upon  the  road  at  all?  He  sought  this 
way  and  that,  but  could  find  neither  ditch  nor  dyke. 
He  was  lost!  He  knew  well  the  danger  of  sitting 
down,  knew  on  the  other  hand  that  the  more  ex- 
hausted he  was  when  he  succumbed,  the  sooner 
would  the  cold  get  the  better  of  him,  and  that  even 
now  he  might  be  wandering  from  the  abodes  of  men, 
diminishing  with  every  step  the  likelihood  of  being 
found.  He  turned  his  back  to  the  wind  and  stood — 
how  long  he  did  not  know,  but  while  he  stood  thus 
'twixt  waking  and  sleeping,  he  received  a  heavy  blow 
on  the  head  —  or  so  it  seemed  — from  something  soft. 
It  dazed  him,  and  the  rest  was  like  a  dream,  in  which 
he  walked  on  and  on  for  ages,  falling  and  rising 
again,    following   something,    he    never   knew   what. 


A    REST.  567 


There  all  memory  of  consciousness  ceased.  He 
came  to  himself  in  bed. 

Aggie  was  the  first  to  get  anxious  about  him. 
They  had  expected  him  home  to  dinner,  and  when  it 
began  to  grow  dark  and  he  had  not  come,  she  could 
bear  it  no  longer,  and  set  out  to  meet  him.  But  she 
had  not  far  to  go,  for  she  had  scarcely  left  the 
kitchen-door  when  she  saw  some  one  leaning  over  the 
gate.  Through  the  gathering  twilight  and  the  storm 
she  could  distinguish  nothing  more,  but  she  never 
doubted  it  was  the  young  laird,  though  whether  in 
the  body  or  out  of  it  she  did  doubt  not  a  little.  She 
hurried  to  the  gate,  and  found  him  standing  between 
it  and  the  wall.  She  thought  at  first  he  was  dead, 
for  there  came  no  answer  when  she  spoke  ;  but  pres- 
ently she  heard  him  murmur  something  about  conic 
sections.  She  opened  the  gate  gently.  He  would 
have  fallen  as  it  yielded,  but  she  held  him.  Her 
touch  seemed  to  bring  him  a  little  to  himself.  She 
supported  and  encouraged  him;  he  obeyed  her,  and 
she  succeeded  in  getting  him  into  the  house.  It  was 
long  ere  Grizzle  and  she  could  make  him  warm  be- 
fore the  kitchen-fire,  but  at  last  he  came  to  himself 
sufficiently  to  walk  up  the  stairs  to  bed,  though  after- 
wards he  remembered  nothing  of  it. 

He  was  recovering  before  they  let  the  laird  under- 
stand in  what  a  dangerous  plight  Aggie  had  found 
him,  but  the  moment  he  learned  that  his  son  was  ail- 
ing, the  old  man  seemed  to  regain  a  portion  of  his 
strength.  He  rose  from  his  bed,  and  for  the  two 
days  and  three  nights  during  which  Cosmo  was  fever- 
ish and  wandering,  slept  only  in   snatches.     On  the 


568  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

third  day  Cosmo  himself  persuaded  him  to  return  to 
his  bed. 

The  women  had  now  their  hands  full — all  the  men 
in  the  house  laid  up,  and  they  two  only  to  do  every- 
thing! The  first  night,  when  they  had  got  Cosmo 
comfortable  in  bed,  and  had  together  gone  down 
again  to  the  kitchen,  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  they 
stopped,  and  looked  at  each  other:  their  turn  had 
come !  They  understood  each  other,  and  words  were 
needless.  Each  had  saved  a  little  money — and  now 
no  questions  would  be  asked !  Aggie  left  the  room 
and  came  back  with  her  store,  which  she  put  into 
Grizzle's  hand.  Grizzle  laid  it  on  the  table,  went  in 
her  turn  to  her  box,  brought  thence  her  store,  laid  it 
on  the  other,  took  both  up,  closed  her  hands  over 
them,  shook  them  together,  murmured  over  them, 
like  an  incantation,  the  words,  "It's  nae  mair  mine, 
an'  it's  nae  mair  thine,  but  belangs  to  a',  whatever 
befa',"  and  put  all  in  her  pocket  under  her  winsey 
petticoat.  Thence,  for  a  time,  the  invalids  wanted 
nothing — after  the  moderate  ideas  of  need,  that  is, 
ruling  in  the  house. 

When  Cosmo  came  to  himself  on  the  third  day,  he 
found  that  self  possessed  by  a  wondrous  peace.  It 
was  as  if  he  were  dead,  and  had  to  rest  till  his 
strength,  exhausted  with  dying,  came  back  to  him. 
Bodiless  he  seemed,  and  without  responsibility  of 
action,  with  that  only  of  thought.  Those  verses  in 
The  Ancient  Mariner  came  to  him  as  if  he  spoke  them 
for  himself : 

"  I  thought  that  I  had  died  in  sleep, 
And  was  a  blessed  ghost." 


A    REST.  569 


His  soul  was  calm  and  trusting  like  that  of  a  bird 
on  her  eggs,  who  knows  her  one  grand  duty  in  the 
economy  of  the  creation  is  repose.  How  it  was  he 
never  could  quite  satisfy  himself,  but,  remembering 
he  had  spent  their  last  penny,  he  yet  felt  no  anxiety ; 
neither,  when  Grizzie  brought  him  food,  felt  inclina- 
tion to  ask  her  how  she  had  procured  it.  The  atmos- 
phere was  that  of  the  fairy-palace  of  his  childish- 
visions,  only  his  feelings  were  more  solemn,  and  the 
fairy,  instead  of  being  beautiful,  was  —  well,  was  dear 
old  Grizzie.  His  sole  concern  was  his  father,  and 
the  cheerful  voice  that  invariably  answered  his  every 
inquiry  was  sufficient  reassurance. 

For  three  days  more  he  lay  in  a  kind  of  blessed 
lethargy,  with  little  or  no  suffering.  He  fancied  he 
could  not  recover,  nor  did  he  desire  to  recover,  but 
to  go  with  his  father  to  the  old  world,  and  learn  its 
ways  from  his  mother.  In  his  half  slumbers  he 
seemed  ever  to  be  gently  floating  down  a  great  gray 
river,  on  which  thousands  more  were  likewise  floating, 
each  by  himself,  some  in  canoes,  some  in  boats,  some 
in  the  water  without  even  an  oar ;  every  now  and  then 
one  would  be  lifted  and  disappear,  none  saw  how, 
but  each  knew  that  his  turn  would  come,  when  he 
too  would  be  laid  hold  of ;  in  the  meantime  all  floated 
helpless  onward,  some  full  of  alarm  at  the  unknown 
before  them,  others  indifferent,  and  some  filled  with 
solemn  expectation ;  he  himself  floated  on  gently 
waiting:  the  unseen  hand  would  come  with  the  hour, 
and  give  him  to  his  mother. 

On  the  seventh  day  he  began  to  regard  the  things 
around  him  with  some  interest,  began  to  be  aware  of 


570  WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

returning  strength,  and  the  approach  of  duty :  pres- 
ently he  must  rise,  and  do  his  part  to  keep  things 
going !  Still  he  felt  no  anxiety,  for  the  alarum  of  duty 
had  not  yet  called  him.  And  now,  as  he  lay  passive 
to  the  influences  of  restoring  strength,  his  father  from 
his  bed  would  tell  him  old  tales  he  had  heard  from 
his  grandmother ;  and  sometimes  they  made  Grizzie 
sit  between  the  two  beds,  and  tell  them  stories  she 
had  heard  in  her  childhood.  Her  stock  seemed 
never  exhausted.  Now  one,  now  the  other  would  say, 
"  There,  Grizzie !  I  never  heard  that  before !  "  and 
Grizzie  would  answer,  "  I  daursay  no,  sir.  Hoo  sud 
ye  than  }     I  had  forgotten  't  mysel' !  " 

Here  is  one  of  the  stories  Grizzie  told  them. 

"  In  a  cauld  how,  far  amo'  the  hills,  whaur  the 
winter  was  a  sair  thing,  there  leevit  an  honest 
couple,  a  man  'at  had  a  gey  lot  o'  sheep,  an'  his  wife 
—  fowk  weel  aff  in  respec'  o'  this  warl's  gear,  an' 
luikit  up  til  amo'  the  neebours,  but  no  to  be  envyed, 
seein'  they  had  lost  a'  haill  bonny  faimily,  ane  after 
the  ither,  till  there  was  na  ane  left  i'  the  hoose  but 
jist  ae  laddie,  the  bonniest  an'  the  best  o'  a',  an'  as 
a  maitter  o'  coorse,  the  verra  aipple  o'  their  e'e.  — 
Amo'  the  three  o'  's  laird,"  here  Grizzie  paused  in  her 
tale  to  remark,  "Ye'll  be  the  only  ane  'at  can  fully 
un'erstan'  hoo  the  hert  o'  a  parent  maun  cleave  to 
the  last  o'  his  flock.  — Weel,  whether  it  was  'at  their 
herts  was  ower  muckle  wrappit  up  i'  this  ae  human 
cratur  for  the  growth  o'  their  sowls,  I  dinna  ken  — 
there  bude  to  be  some  rizzon  for  't  —  this  last  ane  o' 
a'  begiad  in  his  turn  to  dwine  an'  dwin'le  like  the  lave  ; 
an'  whaurever  thae  twa  puir  fowk  turnt  themsel's  i' 


A    REST.  571 


their  pangs,  there  stude  deith,  glowerin'  at  them  oot 
o'  his  toom  e'en.  Pray  they  did,  ye  may  be  sure,  an' 
greit  whan  a'  was  mirk,  but  prayers  nor  tears-  made 
nae  differ;  the  bairn  was  sent  for,  an'  awa'  the  bairn 
maun  gang.  An'  whan  at  len'th  he  lay  streekit  in  his 
last  clean  claes  till  the  robe  o'  richteousness  'at  wants 
na  washin'  was  put  upon  'im,  what  cud  they  but  think 
the  warl'  was  dune  for  them !  ,  • 

"  But  the  warl'  maun  wag,  though  the  hert  may 
sag ;  an'  whan  the  deid  lies  streekit,  there's  a  hoose 
to  be  theekit.  An'  the  freens  an'  the  neebours 
gatithert  frae  near  an'  frae  far,  till  there  was  a  heap 
o'  fowk  i'  the  hoose,  come  to  the  beeryin'  o'  the 
bonny  bairn.  An'  fowk  maun  ait  an'  live  nane  the 
less  'at  the  maitter  they  come  upo'  be  deith  ;  an'  sae 
the  nicht  afore  the  yerdin',  their  denner  the  neist  day 
whan  they  cam  back  frae  the  grave,  had  to  be  foreor- 
deent. 

"  It  was  i'  the  spring-time  o'  the  year,  unco  late  i' 
thae  pairts.  The  maist  o'  the  lambs  hed  come,  but  the 
storms  war  laith  to  lea'  the  laps  o'  the  hills,  an'  lang 
efter  it  begud  to  be  something  like  weather  laicher 
doon,  the  sheep  cudna  be  lippent  oot  to  pick  their 
bit  mait  for  themsel's,  but  had  to  be  keepit  i'  the 
cot.  Sae  to  the  cot  the  gudeman  wad  gang,  to  fess 
hame  a  lamb  for  the  freens  an'  the  neebours'  den- 
ners.  An'  as  it  fell  oot,  it  was  a  fearsome  nicht  o' 
win'  an'  drivin'  snaw-' — waur,  I  wad  reckon,  nor  ony- 
thing  we  hae  hereawa'.  But  he  turnt  na  aside  for 
win'  or  snaw,  for  little  cared  he  what  cam  til  'im  or  o' 
'im,  wi'  sic  a  how  in  his  hert.  O'  the  contrar',  the 
storm  was  like  a  freenly  cloak  til's  grief,  for  upo'  the 


572  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

ro'd  he  fell  a  greitin'  an'  compleenin'  an'  lamentin' 
lood,  jeedgin'  nae  doobt,  gien  he  thoucht  at  a',  he 
micht  du  as  he  likit  wi'  naebody  nigh.  To  the  sheep 
cot,  I  say,  he  gaed  wailin'  an'  cryin'  alood  efter 
bonny  bairn,  the  last  o'  his  flock,  oontimeous  his 
taen. 

"  Half  blin'  wi*  the  nicht  an'  the  snaw  an'  his  ain 
tears,  he  cam  at  last  to  the  door  o'  the  sheep-cot. 
An'  what  sud  he  see  there  but  a  man  stan'in'  afore 
the  door  —  straucht  up,  an'  still  i'  the  mirk  !  It  was 
'maist  fearsome  to  see  onybody  there  —  sae  far  frae 
ony  place  —  no  to  say  upo'  sic  a  nicht !  The  stran- 
ger was  robed  in  some  kin'  o'  a  plaid,  like  the  gude- 
man  himsel',  but  whether  a  lowlan'  or  a  hielan'  plaid, 
he  cudna  tell.  But  the  face  o'  the  man  —  that  was 
ane  no  to  be  forgotten  —  an'  that  for  the  verra  freen- 
liness  o'  't !  An'  whan  he  spak,  it  was  as  gien  a'  the 
v'ices  o'  them  'at  had  gane  afore,  war  made  up 
intil  ane,  for  the  sweetness  an'  the  pooer  o'  the 
same. 

"  '  Wh^t  mak  ye  here  in  sic  a  storm,  man  ? '  he  said. 
An'  the  soon'  o'  his  v'ice  was  aye  safter  nor  the 
words  o'  his  mooth. 

"  '  I  come  for  a  lamb,'  answered  he. 

"  '  What  kin'  o'  a  lamb  ? '  askit  the  stranger. 

"  '  The  verra  best  I  can  lay  my  ban's  upo'  i'  the 
cot,'  answered  he,  '  for  it's  to  lay  afore  my  freens  and 
neebours.  I  houp,  sir,  ye'll  come  hame  wi'  me  an' 
share  o'  't.     Ye  s'  be  welcome.' 

"  '  Du  yer  sheep  mak  ony  resistance  whan  ye  tak 
the  lamb  ?  or  when  it's  gane,  du  they  mak  an 
ootcry ! ' 


A    REST.  573 


"  *  No,  sir  —  never.' 

"  The  stranger  gae  a  kin'  o'  a  sigh,  an'  says  he, 

"  *  That's  no  hoo  they  trait  me  !  Whan  I  gang  to 
my  sheep-fold,  an'  tak  the  best  an'  the  fittest,  my 
ears  are  deavt  an'  my  hert  torn  wi'  the  clamours  — 
the  bleatin',  an'  ba'in'  o'  my  sheep  —  my  ain  sheep  ! 
compleenin'  sair  agen  me ;  —  an'  me  feedin'  them,  an' 
cleedin'  them,  an'  haudin'  the  tod  frae  them,  a'  their 
lives,  frae  the  first  to  the  last !  It's  some  oongratefu', 
an'  some  sair  to  bide.' 

"  By  this  time  the  man's  heid  was  hingin'  doon ; 
but  whan  the  v'ice  ceased,  he  luikit  up  in  amaze. 
The  stranger  was  na  there.  Like  ane  in  a  dream 
wharvin  he  kenned  na  joy  frae  sorrow,  or  pleesur' 
frae  pain,  the  man  gaed  into  the  cot,  an'  grat  ower 
the  heids  o'  the  'oo'y  craters  'at  cam  croddin'  aboot 
'im  ;  but  he  soucht  the  best  lamb  nane  the  less,  an' 
cairriet  it  wi'  'im.  An'  the  next  day  he  came  hame 
frae  the  funeral  wi'  a  smile  upo'  the  face  whaur  had 
been  nane  for  mony  a  lang ;  an'  the  neist  Sunday 
they  h'ard  him  singin'  i'  the  kirk  as  naebody  had  ever 
h'ard  him  sing  afore.  An'  never  frae  that  time  was 
there  a  moan  or  complaint  to  be  h'ard  frae  the  lips  o' 
aither  o'  the  twa.  They  hadna  a  bairn  to  close  their 
e'en  whan  their  turn  sud  come,  but  whaur  there's 
nane  ahin',  there's  the  mair  to  fin'." 

Grizzle  ceased,  and  the  others  were  silent,  for  the 
old  legend  had  touched  the  deepest  in  them. 

Many  years  after,  Cosmo  discovered  that  she  had 
not  told  it  quite  right,  for  having  been  brought  up  in 
the  Lowlands,  she  did  not  thoroughly  know  the  an- 
cient customs  of  the  Highlands.     But  she  had  told  it 


574   .       WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

well  after  her  own  fashion,  and  she  could  not  have 
had  a  fitter  audience.* 

"It's  whiles  i'  the  storm,  whiles  i'  the  desert, 
whiles  i'  the  agony,  an'  whiles  i'  the  calm,  whaurever 
he  gets  them  richt  them  lanes,  'at  the  Lord  visits  his 
people — in  person,  as  a  body  micht  say,"  remarked 
the  laird,  after  a  long  pause. 

Cosmo  did  not  get  well  so  fast  as  he  had  begun 
to  expect.  Nothing  very  definite  seemed  the  matter 
with  him ;  it  was  rather  as  if  life  itself  had  been 
checked  at  the  spring,  therefore  his  senses  dulled, 
and  his  blood  made  thick  and  slow.  A  sleepy  wear- 
iness possessed  him,  in  which  he  would  lie  for  hours, 
supine  and  motionless,  desiring  nothing,  fearing  noth- 
ing, suffering  nothing,  only  loving.  The  time  would 
come  when  he  must  be  up  and  doing,  but  now  he 
would  not  think  of  work ;  he  would  fancy  himself  a 
bird  in  God's  nest  —  the  nest  into  which  the  great 
brother  would  have  gathered  all  the  children  of 
Jerusalem.  Poems  would  come  to  him  —  little  songs 
and  little  prayers  —  spiritual  butterflies,  with  wings 
whose  spots  matched ;  sometimes  humorous  little 
parables  concerning  life  and  its  affairs  would  come  ; 
but  the  pity  was  that  none  of  them  would  stay; 
never,  do  what  he  might,  could  he  remember  so  as  to 
recall  one  of  them,  and  had  to  comfort  himself  with 
the  thought  that  nothing  true  can  ever  be  lost ;  if  one 
form  of  it  go,  it  is  that  a  better  may  come  in  its  place. 
He  doubted  if  the  best  could  be  forgotten.  A  thing 
may  be  invaluable,  he  thought,  and  the  form  in 
which  it  presents  itself  worth  but  little,  however  at 

*  See  Mrs.  Grant's  Essays  on  the  Superstitions  of  the  Highlanders. 


A    REST.  575 


the  moment  it  may  share  the  look  of  the  invaUiable 
within  it.  But  happy  is  the  half-sleeper  whose  brain 
is  a  thoroughfare  for  lovely  things  —  all  to  be  caught 
in  the  nets  of  Life,  for  Life  is  the  one  miser  that 
never  loses,  never  can  lose. 

When  he  was  able  to  get  up  for  a  while  every  day. 
Grizzle  yielded  a  portion  of  her  right  of  nursing  to 
Aggie,  and  now  that  he  was  able  to  talk  a  little,  the 
change  was  a  pleasant  one.  And  now  first  the  laird 
began  to  discover  how  much  there  was  in  Aggie,  and 
expressing  his  admiration  of  her  knowledge  and  good 
sense,  her  intellect  and  insight,  was  a  little  surprised 
that  Cosmo  did  not  seem  so  much  struck  with  them 
as  himself.  Cosmo,  however,  explained  that  her 
gifts  were  no  discovery  to  him,  as  he  had  been  aware 
of  them  from  childhood. 

"There  are  few  like  her,  father,"  he  said.  "  Mony's 
the  time  she's  hauden  me  up  whan  I  was  ready  to  sink." 

"The  Lord  reward  her !  "  responded  the  laird. 

All  sicknesses  are  like  aquatic  plants  of  evil 
growth:  their  hour  comes,  and  they  wither  and  die, 
and  leave  the  channels  free.  Life  returns — in  slow, 
soft  ripples  at  first,  but  not  the  less  in  irresistible 
tide,  and  at  last  in  pulses  of  mighty  throb  through 
every  pipe.  Death  is  the  final  failure  of  all  sickness, 
the  clearing  away  of  the  very  soil  in  which  the  seed 
of  the  ill  plant  takes  root  and  prevails. 

By  degrees  Cosmo  recovered  strength,  nor  left  be- 
hind him  the  peace  that  had  pervaded  his  weakness. 
The  time  for  action  was  at  hand.  For  weeks  he  had 
been  fed  like  the  young  ravens  in  the  nest,  and,  know- 
ing he  could  do  nothing,  had  not  troubled  himself 


576  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

with  the  useless  how;  but  it  was  time  once  more  to 
understand,  that  he  might  be  ready  to  act.  Mechan- 
ically almost,  he  opened  his  bureau :  there  was  not  a 
penny  there.  He  knew  there  could  not  be  —  except 
some  angel  had  visited  it  while  he  lay,  and  that  he 
had  not  looked  for.  He  closed  it,  and  sat  down  to 
think.  There  was  no  work  to  be  had  he  knew  of; 
there  was  little  strength  to  do  it  with,  had  there  been 
any.  As  the  spring  came  on,  there  would  be  labour 
in  the  fields,  and  that  he  would  keep  in  view,  but  the 
question  was  of  present  or  all  but  present  need.  One 
thing  only  he  would  not  do.  There  were  many  in  the 
country  around  on  friendly  terms  with  his  father  and 
himself,  but  his  very  soul  revolted  from  any  endeavour 
to  borrow  money  while  he  saw  no  prospect  of  repay- 
ing it.  He  would  carry  the  traditions  of  his  family  no 
further  in  that  direction.  Literally,  he  would  rather 
die.  But  rather  than  his  father  should  want,  he 
would  beg.  "  Where  borrowing  is  dishonest,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  begging  may  be  honourable.  The 
man  who  scorns  to  accept  a  gift  of  money,  and  does 
not  scruple  to  borrow,  knowing  no  chance  of  repaying, 
is  simply  a  thief ;  the  man  who  has  no  way  of  earning 
the  day's  bread,  has  a  divifie  right  to  beg"  In  Cosmo's 
case,  however,  there  was  this  difficulty:  he  could  eas- 
ily make  a  living  of  some  sort,  would  he  but  leave  his 
father,  and  that  he  was  determined  not  to  do.  Be- 
fore absolute  want  could  arrive,  they  must  have 
parted  with  everything,  and  then  he  would  take  him 
to  some  city  or  town,  where  they  two  would  live  like 
birds  in  a  cage.  No ;  he  was  not  ready  yet  to  take 
his  pack  and  make  the  rounds  of  the  farm-houses  to 


A    REST. 


577 


receive  from  each  his  dole  of  a  handful  of  meal ! 
Something  must  be  possible !     But  then  again,  what  ? 

Once  more  he  fell  a  thinking;  but  it  was  only  to 
find  himself  again  helplessly  afloat  where  no  shore  of 
ways  or  means  was  visible.  Nothing  but  beggary 
in  fact,  and  that  for  the  immediate  future,  showed 
in  sight.  Could  it  be  that  God  verily  intended  for 
him  this  last  humiliation  of  all?  But  again,  would 
such  humiliation  be  equal  to  that  under  which  they 
had  bowed  for  so  many  long  years  —  the  humiliation 
of  owing  and  not  being  able  to  pay.'*  What  a  m.an 
gives,  he  gives,  but  what  a  man  lends,  he  lends  ex- 
pecting to  be  repaid!  A  begger  may  be  under  end- 
less obligation,  but  a  debtor  who  cannot  pay  is  a  slave ! 
He  may  be  God's  free  man  all  the  while  —  that  de- 
pends on  causes  and  conditions,  but  not  the  less  is  he 
his  fellow's  slave !  His  slavery  may  be  to  him  a  light 
burden,  or  a  sickening  misery,  according  to  the  char- 
acter of  his  creditor — but,  except  indeed  there  be  ab- 
solute brotherhood  between  them,  he  is  all  the  same 
a  slave ! 

Again  the  immediately  practical  had  vanished,  lost 
in  reasoning,  and  once  more  he  tried  to  return  to  it. 
But  it  was  like  trying  to  see  through  a  brick  wall.  No 
man  can  invent  needs  for  others  that  he  may  supply 
them.  To  write  again  to  Mr.  Burns  would  be  too 
near  the  begging  on  which  he  had  not  yet  resolved. 
He  never  suspected  that  the  parcel  he  had  left  at  the 
carrier's  house  was  lying  there  still  —  safe  in  his  wife's 
press,  under  a  summer-shawl!  He  could  not  go  to 
Mr.  Simon,  for  he  too  was  poor,  and  had  now  for 
some  time  been  far  from  well,  fears  being  by  the 


578  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

doctor  acknowledged  as  to  the  state  of  his  lungs.  He 
would  go  without  necessaries  even  to  help  them,  and 
that  was  an  insurmountable  reason  against  acquaint- 
ing him  with  their  condition  ! 

All  at  once  a  thought  came  to  him :  why  should  he 
not,  for  present  need,  pledge  the  labour  of  his  body 
in  the  coming  harvest?  That  would  be  but  to  act  on 
a  reasonable  probability,  nor  need  he  be  ashamed  to 
make  the  offer  to  any  man  who  knew  him  enough  to 
be  friendly.  He  would  ask  but  a  part  of  the  fee  in 
advance,  and  a  charitable  or  kindly  disposed  man 
would  surely  venture  the  amount  of  risk  involved  I 
True,  when  the  time  came  he  might  be  as  much  in 
want  of  money  as  he  was  now,  and  there  would  be 
little  or  none  to  receive,  but  on  the  other  hand,  if  he 
did  not  have  help  now,  he  could  never  reach  that 
want,  and  when  he  did,  there  might  be  other  help! 
Better  beg  then  than  now !  He  would  make  the  at- 
tempt, and  that  the  first  day  he  was  strong  enough 
to  walk  the  necessary  distance!  In  the  meantime, 
he  would  have  a  peep  into  the  meal-chest ! 

It  stood  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  kitchen,  and  he  had 
to  put  his  hand  in  to  learn  its  condition.  He  found 
a  not  very  shallow  layer  of  meal  in  the  bottom.  How 
there  could  be  so  much  after  his  long  illness,  he 
scarcely  dared  imagine.  He  must  ask  Grizzle,  he 
said  to  himself,  but  he  shrank  in  his  heart  from  ques- 
tioning her. 

There  came  now  a  spell  of  warm  weather,  and  all 
the  invalids  improved.  Cosmo  was  able  to  go  out, 
and  every  day  had  a  little  walk  by  himself.  Natu- 
rally he  thought  of  the  only  other  time  in  his  life 


A    REST. 


579 


when  he  first  walked  out  after  an  illness.  Joan  had 
been  so  near  him  then  it  scarce  seemed  anything 
could  part  them,  and  now  she  seemed  an  eternity 
away!  For  months  he  had  heard  nothing  of  her. 
She  must  be  married,  and,  knowing  well  his  feelings, 
must  think  it  kinder  not  to  write !  Then  the  justice 
of  his  soul  turned  to  the  devotion  of  the  two  women 
who  had  in  this  trouble  tended  him,  though  the  half 
of  it  he  did  not  yet  know ;  and  from  that  he  turned  to 
the  source  of  all  devotion,  and  made  himself  strong 
in  the  thought  of  the  eternal  love. 

From  that  time,  the  weather  continuing  moderate, 
he  made  rapid  progress,  and  the  week  following  judged 
himself  equal  to  a  long  walk. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


HELP. 


He  had  come  to  the  resolve  to  carry  his  petition 
first  to  the  farmer  in  whose  fields  he  had  laboured 
the  harvest  before  the  last.  The  distance  was  rather 
great,  but  he  flattered  himself  he  would  be  able  to 
walk  home  every  night.  In  the  present  state  of  his 
strength,  however,  he  found  it  a  long  trudge  indeed ; 
and  before  the  house  came  in  sight,  was  very  weary. 
But  he  bore  up  and  held  on. 

"  I  was  almost  as  ill-oif,"  he  said  to  himself,  "when 
I  came  here  for  work  the  first  time,  yet  here  I  am  — 
alive,  and  likely  to  work  again  !  It's  just  like  going 
on  and  on  in  a  dream,  wondering  what  we  are  com- 
ing to  next." 

He  was  shown  into  the  parlour,  and  had  not 
waited  long  when  the  farmer  came.  He  scarcely 
welcomed  him,  but  by  degrees  his  manner  grew  more 
cordial.  Still  the  coldness  with  which  he  had  been 
received  caused  Cosmo  to  hesitate,  and  a  pause  en- 
sued. The  farmer  broke  it. 
580 


HELP.  581 


"  Ye  didna  gie's  the  fawvour  o'  yer  company  last 
hairst ! "  he  said.  I  wad  hae  thought  ye  micht  hae 
fun'  yersel'  fully  mair  at  hame  wi'  the  like  o'  us  nor 
wi'  that  ill-tongued  vratch,  Lord  Lick-my-loof  !  Nane 
o'  's  tuik  it  ower  weel  'at  ye  gied  na's  the  chance  o' 
yer  guid  company." 

This  explained  his  reception,  and  Cosmo  made 
haste  in  his  turn  to  explain  his  conduct. 

"Ye  may  be  sure,"  he  answered,  "it  gaed  some 
agen  the  grain  to  seek  wark  frae  him^  an'  I  had  no 
rizzon  upon  earth  for  no  comin'  to  you  first  but  that 
I  didna  want  to  be  sae  far,  at  nicht  especially,  frae 
my  father.     He's  no  the  man  he  was." 

"  Verra  nait'ral  !  "  responded  the  farmer  heartily, 
and  wondered  in.  himself  whether  any  of  his  sons 
would  have  considered  him  so  much.  "Weel,"he 
went  on,  "I'm  jist  relieved  to  un'erstan'  the  thing; 
for  the  lasses  wad  hae  perswaudit  me  I  hed  gien  ye 
some  offence  wi'  my  free-spoken  w'y,  whan  I'm  sure 
naething  cud  hae  been  far'er  frae  the  thoucht  o'  my 
hert." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Cosmo,  half  rising  in  his  eagerness, 
"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Henderson,  there  is  not  a  man 
from  whom  I  should  be  less  ready  to  imagine  offence 
than  yourself.  I  do  not  know  how  to  express  my 
feeling  of  the  kindness  with  which  you  always  treated 
me.  Nor  could  I  have  given  you  a  better  proof  that 
i  mean  what  I  say  than  by  coming  to  you  first,  the 
moment  I  was  able  for  the  walk,  with  the  request  I 
have  now  to  make.  Will  you  engage  me  for  the 
coming  harvest,  and  pay  me  a  par-t  of  the  fee  in 
advance  ?     I  know  it  is  a  strange  request,  and  if  you 


582  WARLOCK    O'    GLEN  WARLOCK. 

refuse  it,  I  doubt  if  there  is  another  to  whom  I  shall 
venture  to  make  it.  I  confess  also  that  I  have 
been  very  ill,  but  I  am  now  fairly  on  the  mend,  and 
there  is  a  long  time  to  recover  my  strength  in  before 
the  harvest.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  we  are  much  in 
want  of  a  little  money  at  the  castle.  We  are  not 
greatly  in  debt  now,  but  we  have  lost  all  our  land  j 
and  a  house,  however  good,  won't  grow  corn.  Some- 
thing in  my  mind  tells  me  that  my  father,  unlikely  as 
it  may  seem,  will  yet  pay  everything ;  and  anyhow  we 
want  to  hold  on  as  long  as  we  can.  I  am  sure,  if 
you  were  in  our  place,  you  would  not  be  willing 
to  part  with  the  house  a  moment  before  you  were 
absolutely  compelled." 

"  But,  laird,"  said  the  farmer,  who  had  listened 
with  the  utmost  attention,  "  hoo  can  the  thing  be,  'at 
amo'  a'  the  great  fowk  ye  hae  kent,  there  sud  be  nane 
to  say,  '  Help  yersel' '  ?  I  canna  un'erstan'  hoo  the 
last  o'  sic  an  auld  faimily  sud  na  hae  a  han'  held  oot 
to  help  them  !  " 

"  It  is  not  so  very  hard  to  explain,"  replied  Cosmo. 
"  Almost  all  my  father's  old  friends  are  dead  or  gone, 
and  a  man  like  him,  especially  in  straitened  cir- 
cumstances, does  not  readily  make  new  friends. 
Almost  the  only  person  he  has  been  intimate  with  of 
late  years  is  Mr.  Simon,  whom  I  daresay  you  know. 
Then  he  has  what  many  people  count  peculiar  notions 
—  so  peculiar,  indeed,  that  I  have  heard  of  some 
calling  him  a  fool  behind  his  back  because  he  paid 
themselves  certain  moneys  his  father  owed  them.  I 
believe  if  he  had  rich  friends  they  would  say  it  wa^ 
no  use  trying  to  help  such  a  man." 


HELP.  583 


"  Weel !  "  exclaimed  the  farmer,  "  it  jist  blecks  me 
to  ken  hoo  there  can  be  ony  trowth  i'  the  Bible,  whan 
a  man  like  that  comes  sae  near  to  beggin'  his  breid ! " 

"  He  is  very  near  it,  certainly,"  assented  Cosmo, 
*'  but  why  not  he  as  well  as  another  ?  " 

"  'Cause  they  tell  me  the  Bible  says  the  richteous 
man  sail  never  come  to  beg  his  breid." 

"  Well,  near  is  not  there.  But  I  fancy  there  must 
be  a  mistake.  The  writer  of  one  of  the  psalms  —  I 
do  not  know  whether  David  or  another,  says  he  never 
saw  the  righteous  forsaken  or  his  seed  begging  bread ; 
but  though  he  may  not  have  seen  it,  another  may." 

"  Weel,  I  fancy  gien  he  hed,  he  wadna  hae  been 
lang  in  puttin'  a  stop  til 't !  Laird,  gien  a  sma'  mait- 
ter  o'  fifty  poun'  or  sae  wad  tide  ye  ower  the  trible  — 
—  weel,  ye  cud  pay  me  whan  ye  likit." 

It  was  a  moment  or  two  before  Cosmo  could  speak. 
A  long  conversation  followed,  rising  almost  to  fierce- 
ness, certainly  to  oaths,  on  the  part  of  the  farmer, 
because  of  Cosmo's  refusal  to  accept  the  offered  loan. 

"  I  do  see  my  way,"  persisted  Cosmo,  "  to  paying 
for  my  wages  with  my  work,  but  I  see  it  to  nothing 
more.  Lend  me  two  pounds,  Mr.  Henderson,  on  the 
understanding  that  I  am  to  work  it  out  in  the  har- 
vest, and  I  shall  be  debtor  to  your  kindness  to  all 
eternity ;  but  more  I  cannot  and  will  not  accept." 

Grumbling  heavily,  the  farmer  at  length  handed 
him  the  two  pounds,  but  obstinately  refused  any  writ- 
ten acknowledgment  or  agreement. 

Neither  of  them  knew  that,  all  the  time  the 
friendly  altercation  proceeded,  there  was  Elsie  listen- 
ing at  the  door,  her  colour  coming  and  going  like  the 


584  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

shadows  in  a  day  of  sun  and  wind.  Entering  at  its 
close  she  asked  Cosmo  to  stop  and  take  tea  with 
them,  and  the  farmer  following  it  up,  he  accepted  the 
invitation,  and  indeed  was  glad  to  make  a  good  meal. 
Elsie  was  sorely  disappointed  that  her  father  had  not 
succeeded  in  making  him  his  debtor  to  a  larger  extent, 
but  the  meal  passed  with  pleasure  to  all,  for  the  relief 
of  having  two  pounds  in  his  pocket,  and  those  granted 
with  such  genuine  kindness,  put  Cosmo  in  great 
spirits,  and  made  him  more  than  usually  agreeable. 
The  old  farmer  wondered  admiringly  at  the  spirit  of 
the  youth  who  in  such  hardship  could  yet  afford  to 
be  merry.  But  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  a  perfect 
faith  would  work  at  last  thorough  good  spirits,  as 
well  as  everything  else  that  is  good. 

Cosmo  sat  with  his  kind  neighbours  till  the  gloam- 
ing began  to  fall.  When  he  rose  to  go,  they  all  rose 
with  him,  and  accompanied  him  fully  half-way  home. 
When  they  took  their  leave  of  him,  and  he  was  again 
alone,  his  heart  grew  so  glad  that,  weak  as  he  yet 
was,  and  the  mists  rising  along  his  path,  he  never  felt 
the  slightest  chill,  but  trudged  cheerily  on,  praying 
and  singing  and  making  all  the  way,  until  at  length  he 
was  surprised  to  find  how  short  it  had  been. 

For  a  great  part  of  it,  after  his  friends  left  him,  he 
had  glimpses  now  and  then  of  some  one  before  him 
that  looked  like  Aggie,  but  the  distance  between 
them  gradually  lengthened,  and  before  he  reached 
home  he  had  lost  sight  of  her.  When  he  entered  the 
kitchen,  Aggie  was  there. 

"  Was  yon  you  upo'  the  ro'd  afore  me,  Aggie  ? " 
he  said. 


HELP.  585 


"  Ay,  was't." 

"  What  for  didna  ye  bide  ?  " 

"Ye  had  yer  company  the  first  half  o'  the  ro'd,  an' 
yer  sangs  the  last,  an'  I  didna  think  ye  wantit  me." 

So  saying  she  went  up  the  stair. 

As  Cosmo  followed,  he  turned  and  put  his  hand 
into  the  meal-chest.  It  was  empty !  There  was  not 
enough  to  make  their  supper.  He  smiled  in  his 
heart,  and  said  to  himself, 

"The  links  of  the  story  hold  yet!  When  one 
breaks,  the  world  will  drift." 

Going  up  to  his  father,  he  had  to  pass  the  door  of 
his  own  room,  now  occupied  by  James  Gracie.  As 
he  drew  near  it,  he  heard  the  voice  of  Aggie  speak- 
ing to  her  grandfather.  What  she  said  he  did  not 
know,  but  he  heard  the  answer. 

"  Lassie,"  said  the  old  man,  "  ye  can  never  see  by 
{past)  the  Lord  to  ken  whaur  he's  takin'  ye.  Ye 
may  jist  as  weel  close  yer  e'en.  His  garment 
spreads  ower  a'  the  ro'd,  an'  what  we  hae  to  du  is  to 
haud  a  guid  grip  o'  't — no  to  try  an'  see  ayont  it." 

Cosmo  hastened  up,  and  told  his  father  what  he 
had  overheard. 

"There's  naething  like  faith  for  makin'  o'  poets, 
Cosmo  ! "  said  the  laird.  "  Jeames  never  appeart  to 
me  to  hae  mair  o'  what's  ca'd  intellec'  nor  an  ord'nar' 
share ;  but  ye  see  the  man  'at  has  faith  he's  aye 
growin',  an'  sae  may  come  to  something  even  i'  this 
warl'.  An'  whan  ye  think  o'  the  ages  to  come,  truly 
it  wad  seem  to  maitter  little  what  intellec'  a  man  may 
start  wi'.  I  kenned  mysel'  ane  'at  in  ord'nar'  affairs 
was  coontit  little  better  nor  an  idiot,  'maist  turn  a 


586  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

prophet  whan  he  gaed  doon  upo'  his  knees.  Ay ! 
fowk  may  lauch  at  what  they  haena  a  glimp  o',  but 
it'll  be  lang  or  their  political  economy  du  sae  muckle 
for  sic  a  man !  The  economist  wad  wuss  his  neck 
had  been  thrawn  whan  he  was  born." 

Here  Cosmo  heard  Grizzie  come  in,  and  went 
down  to  her.  She  was  sitting  in  his  father's  chair 
by  the  fire,  and  did  not  turn  her "  face  when  he 
spoke.  She  was  either  tired  or  vexed,  he  thought. 
Aggie  was  also  now  in  the  kitchen  again. 

"  Here,  Grizzie  !  "  said  Cosmo,  "  here's  twa  poun'; 
an'  ye'll  need  to  gar't  gang  far'er  nor  it  can,  I'm 
thinkin',  for  I  dinna  ken  whaur  we're  to  get  the  neist." 

"Kenyewhaur  ye  got  the  last?"  muttered  Griz- 
zie, and  made  haste  to  cover  the  words  : 

*'  Whaur  got  ye  that,  Cosmo  ?  "  she  said. 

"  What  gien  I  dinna  tell  ye,  Grizzie  ?  "  he  returned, 
willing  to  rouse  her  with  a  little  teazing. 

"That's  as  ye  see  proper,  sir,"  she  answered. 
"  Naebody  has  a  richt  to  say  til  anither  '  Whaur  got 
ye  that?'  'cep'  they^doobt  ye  hae.been  stealin'." 

It  was  a  somewhat  strange  answer,  but  there  was 
no  end  to  the  strange  things  Grizzie  would  say : 
it  was  one  of  her  charms !  Cosmo  told  her  at  once 
where  and  how  he  had  got  the  money;  for  with 
such  true  comrades,  although  not  yet  did  he  know 
how  true,  he  felt  alrnost  that  a  secret  would  be  a  sin. 

But  the  moment  Grizzie  heard  where  Cosmo  had 
engaged  himself,  and  from  whom  on  the  pledge  of 
that  engagement  he  had  borrowed  money,  she 
started  from  her  chair,  and  cried,  with  clenched 
and  outstretched  hand, 


HELP.  587 

"  Glenwarlock,  yoong  sir,  ken  ye  what  ye're 
duin'  ?  —  The  Lord  preserve  's !  he's  an  innocent !  " 
she  added,  turning  with  an  expression  of  despair  to 
Aggie,  who  regarded  the  two  with  a  strange  look. 

"  Grizzie  ! "  cried  Cosmo,  in  no  little  astonish- 
ment, "what  on  earth  gars  ye  luik  like  that  at  the 
mention  o'  ane  wha  has  this  moment  helpit  us 
oot  o'  the  warst  strait  ever  we  war  in  !" 

"  Gien  there  had  been  naebody  nearer  hame  to 
help  ye  oot  o'  waur  straits,  it's  waur  straits  ye  wad 
be  in.  An'  it's  waur  ye'll  be  in  yet,  gien  that  man 
gets  his  M^ull  o'  ye  !  " 

"  He's  a  fine,  honest  chiel' !  An'  for  waur  straits, 
Grizzie —  are  na  ye  at  the  verra  last  wi'  yer  meal  ?  " 

As  he  spoke  he  turned,  and,  in  bodily  reference  to 
fact,  went  to  the  chest  into  which  he  had  looked  but 
a  few  minutes  before.  To  his  astonishment,  there 
was  enough  in  it  for  a  good  many  meals  !  He  turned 
again,  and  stared  at  Grizzie.  But  she  had  once 
more  seated  herself  in  his  father's  chair,  with  her 
back  to  him,  and  before  he  could  speak  she  went  on 
thus  : 

"  Shame  fa'  him,  say  I,  'at  made  his  siller  as  a 
flesher  i'  the  wast  wyn'  o'  Howglen,  to  ettle  at  a  gen- 
tleman o'  a  thoosan'  year  for  ane  o'  his  queans  !  But, 
please  the  Lord,  we  's  baud  clear  o'  'im  yet ! " 

"  Hootoot,  Grizzie !  ye  canna  surely  think  ony 
sic  man  wad  regaird  the  like  o'  me  as  worth  luikin' 
efter  for  a  son-in-law  !     He  wadna  be  sic  a  gowk !  " 

"Gowk  here,  gowk  there  !  he  kens  what  ye  are  an' 
what  ye're  worth — weel  that !  Hasna  he  seen  ye  at 
the  scythe?     Disna  he  ken  there's  ten  times  mair  to 


588  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

be  made  o'  ae  gentleman  like  you,  wi'  siller  at  his 
back,  nor  ten  common  men  sic  as  he's  like  to  get  for 
his  dothers  ?  Weel  kens  he  it's  nae  faut  o'  you  or 
yours  'at  ye're  no  freely  sae  weel  aff  as  some  'at 
oucht  an'  wuU  be  waur,  gien  it  be  the  Lord's  wull,  or 
a'  be  dune  !  Disna  he  ken  'at  Castle  Warlock  itsel' 
wad  be  a  warl's  honour  to  ony  leddy  —  no  to  say  a 
lass  broucht  up  ower  a  slauchter-hoose  ?  Shame  upo' 
him  an'  his  !  " 

"Weel,  Grizzie,"  rejoined  Cosmo,  "ye  may  say  'at 
ye  like,  but  I  dinna  believe  he  wad  hae  dune  what  he 
has  dune  —  " 

"Cha!"  interrupted  Grizzie;  "what  has  he  dune? 
Disna  he  ken  the  word  o'  a  Warlock's  as  guid  as 
gowd  ?  Disna  he  ken  your  wark,  what  wi'  yer  pride 
an'  what  wi'  yer  ill-placed  graititude,  'ill  be  worth  til 
,'im  that  o'  twa  men?  The  man's  nae  coof!  He 
kens  what  he's  aboot !  Haith,  ye  needna  waur  (spend) 
muckle  graititude  upo'  sic  benefactions  !  " 

"  To  show  you,  Grizzie,  that  you  are  unfair  to  him, 
I  feel  bound  to  tell  you  that  he  pressed  on  me  the 
loan  of  fifty  pounds." 

"  I  tell  ye  sae ! "  screamed  Grizzie,  starting  again 
to  her  feet.     "  God  forbid  ye  took  'im  at  his  offer ! " 

"  I  did  not,"  answered  Cosmo  ;  "  but  all  the  same — " 

"The  Lord  be  praised  for  his  abundant  an'  great 
mercy  !  "  cried  Grizzie,  more  heartily  than  devoutly. 
"We  may  contrive  to  winnower  the  twa  poun',  even 
sud  ye  no  work  it  oot ;  hut  Jifiy  / — the  Lord  be  aboot 
us  frae  ill !  so  sure  's  deith,  ye  wad  hae  had  to  tak 
the  lass !  —  Cosmo,  ye  canna  but  ken  the  auld  tale  o* 
muckle-moo'd  Meg? " 


HELP.  589 

"Weel  that,"  replied  Cosmo.  "But  ye'll  alloc, 
Grizzle,  times  are  altert  sin'  the  day  whan  the  laird 
cud  gie  a  ch'ice  atween  a  wife  an'  the  wuddie  !  Mr. 
Hen'erson  canna  weel  hang  me  gien.     I  sud  say  noT 

"  Say  ye  no^  come  o'  the  hangin'  what  like,"  rejoined 
Grizzie. 

"  But,  Grizzie,"  said  Cosmo,  "  I  wad  fain  ken  whaur 
that  meal  i'  the  kist  cam  frae.  There  was  nane  intil 
't  an  hoor  ago." 

With  all  her  faults  of  temper  and  tongue,  there  was 
one  evil  word  Grizzie  could  not  speak.  In  the  course 
of  a  not  very  brief  life  she  had  tried  a  good  many 
times  to  tell  a  lie,  but  had  never  been  able;  and 
now,  determined  not  to  tell  where  the  meal  had  come 
from,  she  naturally  paused  unprepared.  It  was  but 
for  a  moment.     Out  came  the  following  utterance. 

'"  Some  fowk  says,  sir,  'at  the  age  o'  mirracles  is 
ower.  For  mysel'  I  dinna  preten'  to  ony  opingon; 
but  sae  lang  as  the  needcessity  was  the  same,  I 
wad  be  laith  to  think  Providence  wadna  be  consist- 
ent wi'  itsel'.  Ye  maun  min'  the  tale,  better  nor  I 
can  teirt  ye,  concernin'  yon  meal-gimel — muckle  sic 
like,  I  daursay,  as  oor  ain,  though  it  be  ca'd  a  barrel 
i'  the  Bulk — hit  'at  never  wastit,  ye  ken,  an'  the  uily- 
pig  an'  a' — ye'll  min'  weel  — though  what  ony  wuman 
in  her  senses  cud  want  wi'  sic  a  sicht  o'  ile's  mair  nor 
I  ever  cud  faddom  !  Eh,  but  a  happy  wuman  was 
she  'at  had  but  to  tak  her  bowl  an'  gang  to  the  gimel, 
as  I  micht  tak  my  pail  an'  gang  to  the  wall !  An' 
what  for  michtna  the  Almighty  mak  a  meal-wall  as 
weel's  a  watter-wall,  I  wad  like  to  ken  !  What  for  no 
a  wall  'at  sud  rin   ile  —  or  sav  milk,   which   wad  be 


59©  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

mair  to  the  purpose  ?  Ae  thing  maun  be  jist  as  easy 
to  him  as  anither — jist  as  ae  thing's  as  hard  to  us  as 
anither !     Eh,  but  we're  helpless  creturs  !  " 

"  I'  your  w'y,  Grizzie,  ye  wad  keep  us  as  helpless 
as  ever,  for  ye  wad  hae  a'  thing  hauden  to  oor  han', 
like  to  the  bairnie  in  his  mither's  lap !  It's  o'  the 
mercy  o'  the  Lord  'at  he  wad  mak  men  an'  women 
o'  's — no  haud  's  bairns  for  ever!  " 

"It  maybe  as  ye  say,  Cosmo;  but  whiles  I  cud 
maist  wuss  I  was  a  bairn  again,  an'  had  to  luik  to  my 
mither  for  a'  thing." 

"  An'  isna  that  siclike  as  the  Lord  wad  hae  o'  's, 
Grizzie  ?  We  canna  aye  be  bairns  to  oor  mithers  — 
an'  for  me  I  wasna  ane  lang — but  we  can  an'  maun 
aye  be  bairns  to  the  great  Father  o'  's." 

"  I  hae  an  ill  hert,  I  doobt,  Cosmo,  for  I'm  unco 
hard  to  content.  An'  I'm  ower  auld  noo,  I  fear, 
to  mak  muckle  better  o'.  But  maybe  some  kinily 
body  like  yersel'  'ill  tak  me  in  han'  whan  I'm  deid, 
an'  put  some  sense  intil  me .!  " 

"Ye  hae  sense  eneuch,  Grizzie,  an'  to  spare,  gien 
only  ye  wad  —  " 

"  Guide  my  tongue  a  wee  better,  ye  wad  say  !  But 
little  ye  ken  the  temptation  o'  ane  'at  has  but  ae  soli- 
tary wapon,  to  mak  use  o'  that  same  !  An'  the  gift  ye 
hae  ye're  no  to  despise ;  ye  maun  turn  a'  til  acoont." 

Cosmo  did  not  care  to  reason  with  her  further,  and 
went  back  to  his  father. 

Grizzie  had  gained  her  point  ;  which  was  to  turn 
him  aside  from  questions  about  the  meal. 

For  a  little  while  they  had  now  wherewith  to  live  ; 
and  if  it  seem  to  my  reader  that  the  horizon  of  hope 


HELP.  591 

was  narrowing  around  them,  it  does  not  follow  that  it 
must  have  seemed  so  to  them.  For  what  is  the  ex- 
tent of  our  merely  rational  horizon  at  any  time?  But 
for  faith  and  imagination  it  would  be  a  narrow  one 
indeed !  Even  what  we  call  experience  is  but  a 
stupid  kind  of  faith.  It  is  a  trusting  in  impetus  in- 
stead of  in  love.  And  those  days  were  fashioning  an 
eternal  joy  to  father  and  son,  for  they  were  loving 
each  other  a  little  more  ere  each  day's  close,  and 
were  thus  putting  time,  despite  of  fortune,  to  its  high- 
est use. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 


A   COMMON    MIRACLE. 


Until  he  was  laid  up,  Cosmo  had  all  the  winter, 
and  especially  after  his  old  master  was  taken  ill,  gone 
often  to  see  Mr.  Simon.  The  good  man  was  now 
beginning,  chiefly  from  the  effects  of  his  complaint, 
to  feel  the  approach  of  age  ;  but  he  was  cheerful 
and  hopeful  as  ever,  and  more  expectant.  As  soon 
as  he  was  able  Cosmo  renewed  his  visits,  but  seldom 
stayed  long  with  him,  both  because  Mr.  Simon  could 
not  bear  much  talking,  and  because  he  knew  his 
father  would  be  w  atching  for  his  return. 

One  day  it  had  rained  before  sunrise,  and  a  soft 
spring  wind  had  been  blowing  ever  since,  a  soothing 
and  persuading  wind,  that  seemed  to  draw  out  the 
buds  from  the  secret  places  of  the  dry  twigs,  and 
whisper  to  the  roots  of  the  rose-trees  that  their 
flowers  would  be  wanted  by  and  by.  And  now  the 
sun  was  near  the  foot  of  the  western  slope,  and  there 
was  a  mellow,  tearful  look  about  earth  and  sky,  when 
Grizzle,  entering  the  room  where  Cosmo  was  reading 
592 


A    COMMON    MIRACLE.  593 

to  his  father,  as  he  sat  in  his  easy  chair  by  the  fire- 
side, told  them  she  had  just  heard  that  Mr.  Simon 
had  had  a  bad  night  and  was  worse.  The  laird 
begged  Cosmo  to  go  at  once  and  inquire  after  him. 

The  wind  kept  him  company  as  he  walked,  flitting 
softly  about  him,  like  an  attendant  that  needed  more 
motion  than  his  pace  would  afford,  and  seemed  so 
full  of  thought  and  love,  that,  for  the  thousandth 
time,  he  wondered  whether  there  could  be  any- 
thing but  spirit,  and  what  we  call  matter  might 
not  be  merely  the  consequence  of  our  human  way  of 
looking  at  the  wrong  side  of  the  golden  tissue.  Then 
came  the  thought  of  the  infinitude  of  our  moods,  of 
the  hues  and  shades  and  endless  kinds  and  varieties 
of  feeling,  especially  in  our  dreams ;  and  he  said  to 
himself  how  rich  God  must  be,  since  from  him  we 
come  capable  of  such  inconceivable  differences  of 
conscious  life !  " 

"  How  poor  and  helpless,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  how  mere  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger  in  a  world  over 
which  he  has  no  rule,  must  he  be  who  has  not  God 
all  one  with  him !  Not  otherwise  can  his  life  be 
free  save  as  moving  in  loveliest  harmony  with  the 
will  and  life  of  the  only  Freedom  —  that  which  will. -. 
and  we  are !  " 

"How  would  it  be,"  he  thought  again,  "if  things 
were  to  come  and  go  as  they  pleased  in  my  fnind  and 
brain  ?  Would  that  not  be  madness  ?  For  is  it  not 
the  essence  of  madness,  that  things  thrust  themselves 
upon  one,  and  by  very  persistence  of  seeming,  com- 
pel and  absorb  the  attention,  drowning  faith  and  will 
in  a  false  conviction  ?     The  soul  that  is  empty,  swept, 


594         WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

and  garnished,  is  the  soul  which  adorns  itself,  where 
God  is  not,  and  where  therefore  other  souls  come  and 
go  as  they  please,  drawn  by  the  very  selfhood,  and 
make  the  man  the  slave  of  their  suggestions.  One- 
ness with  the  mighty  All  is  at  the  one  end  of  life; 
distraction,  things  going  at  a  thousand  foolish  wills, 
at  the  other.  God  or  chaos  is  the  alternative ;  all 
thou  hast,  or  no  Christ ! " 

And  as  he  walked  thinking  thus,  the  stream  was  by 
his  side,  tumbling  out  its  music  as  it  ran  to  find  its 
eternity.  And  the  wind  blew  on  from  the  moist  west, 
where  the  gold  and  purple  had  fallen  together  in  a 
ruined  heap  over  the  tomb  of  the  sun.  And  the  stars' 
came  thinking  out  of  the  heavens,  and  the  things  of 
earth  withdrew  into  the  great  nest  of  the  dark.  And 
so  he  found  himself  at  the  door  of  the  cottage, 
where  lay  one  of  the  heirs  of  all  things,  waiting  to 
receive  his  inheritance. 

But  the  news  he  heard  was  that  the  master  was 
better;  and  the  old  woman  showed  him  at  once  to 
his  room,  saying  she  knew  he  would  be  glad  to 
see  him.  When  he  entered  the  study,  in  which, 
because  of  his  lorig  illness  and  need  of  air,  Mr.  Si- 
mon lay,  the  room  seemed  to  grow  radiant,  filled 
with  the  smile  that  greeted  him  from  the  pillow. 
The  sufferer  held  out  his  hand  almost  eagerly. 

"Come,  come!"  he  said;  "I  want  to  tell  you 
something — a  little  experience  I  have  just  had  —  an 
event  of  my  illness.  Outwardly  it  is  nothing,  but  to 
you  it  will  not  be  nothing.  —  It  was  blowing  a  great 
wind  last  night." 


A    COMMON    MIRACLE.  595 

"  So  my  father  tells  me,"  answered  Cosmo,  "  but 
for  my  part  I  slept  too  sound  to  hear  it." 

"It  grew  calm  with  the  morning.  As  the  light 
came  the  wind  fell.  Indeed  I  think  it  lasted  only 
about  three  hours  altogether. 

"  I  have  of  late  been  suffering  a  good  deal  with  my 
breathing,  and  it  has  always  been  worst  when  the 
wind  was  high.  Last  night  I  lay  awake  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  very  weary,  and  longing  for  the  sleep 
which  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  come.  I  thought 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  how,  as  he  lay  dying,  he  was 
troubled,  because,  for  all  his  praying,  God  would  not 
let  him  sleep :  it  was  not  the  want  of  the  sleep  that 
troubled  him,  but  that  God  would  not  give  it  him ; 
and  I  was  trying  hard  to  make  myself  strong  to  trust 
in  God  whatever  came  to  me,  sleep  or  waking  weari- 
ness or  slow  death,  when  all  at  once  up  got  the  wind 
with  a  great  roar,  as  if  the  prince  of  the  power  of  the 
air  were  mocking  at  my  prayers.  And  I  thought 
with  myself,  '  It  is  then  the  will  of  God  that  I  shall 
neither  sleep  nor  lie  at  peace  this  night ! '  and  I  said, 
*  Thy  will  be  done  ! '  and  laid  myself  out  to  be  quiet, 
expecting,  as  on  former  occasions,  my  breathing  would 
begin  to  grow  thick  and  hard,  and  by  and  by  I  should 
have  to  struggle  for  every  lungsful.  So  I  lay  waiting. 
But  still  as  I  waited,  I  kept  breathing  softly.  No 
iron  band  ringed  itself  about  my  chest;  no  sand 
filled  up  the  passages  of  my  lungs ! 

"  The  cottage  is  not  very  tight,  and  I  felt  the  wind 
blowing  all  about  me  as  I  lay.  But  instead  of  begin- 
ning to  cough  and  wheeze,  I  began  to  breathe  better 
than  before.     Soon   I  fell  fast  asleep,  and  when  I 


596  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

woke  I  seemed  a  new  man  almost,  so  much  better 
did  I  feel.  It  was  a  wind  of  God,  and  had  been 
blowing  all  about  me  as  I  slept,  renewing  me  !  It  was 
so  strange,  and  so  delightful !  Where  I  dreaded  evil, 
there  had  come  good !  So,  perchance,  it  will  be 
when  the  time  which  the  flesh  dreads  is  drawing  nigh : 
we  shall  see  the  pale  damps  of  the  grave  approaching, 
but  they  will  never  reach  us ;  we  shall  hear  ghastly 
winds  issuing  from  the  mouth  of  the  tomb,  but  when 
they  blow  upon  us  they  shall  be  sweet  —  the  waving 
of  the  wings  of  the  angels  that  sit  in  the  antechamber 
of  the  hall  of  life,  once  the  sepulchre  of  our  Lord. 
And  when  we  die,  instead  of  finding  we  are  dead,  we 
shall  have  waked  better !  " 

It  was  an  experience  that  would  have  been  nothing 
to  most  men  beyond  its  relief,  but  to  Peter  Simon  it 
was  a  word  from  the  eternal  heart,  which,  in  every 
true  and  quiet  mood,  speaks  into  the  hearts  of  men. 
When  we  cease  listening  to  the  cries  of  self-seeking 
and  self-care,  then  the  voice  that  was  there  all  the 
time  enters  into  our  ears.  It  is  the  voice  of  the 
Father  speaking  to  his  child,  never  known  for  what  it 
is  until  the  child  begins  to  obey  it.  To  him  who  has 
not  ears  to  hear  God  will  not  reveal  himself  :  it  would 
be  to  slay  him  with  terror. 

Cosmo  sat  a  long  time  talking  with  his  friend,  for 
now  there  seemed  no  danger  of  hurting  him,  so  much 
better  was  he.  It  was  late  therefore  when  he  rose  to 
return. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

DEFIANCE. 

Aggie  was  in  the  kitchen  when  he  entered.  She 
was  making  the  porridge. 

"  What's  come  o'  Grizzie  ? "  asked  Cosmo. 

"  Ye  dinna  like  my  parritch  sae  weel  as  hers  ! " 
returned  Agnes. 

"  Jist  as  weel,  Aggie,"  answered  Cosmo. 

"  Dinna  ye  tell  Grizzie  that." 

"  What  for  no  ?  " 

"  She  wad  be  angert  first,  an'  syne  her  hert  wad 
be  like  to  brak." 

"  There's  nae  occasion  to  say't,"  conceded  Cosmo. 
"  But  what's  come  o'  her  the  nicht  ?  "  he  went  on. 
"  It's  some  dark,  an'  I  doobt  she'll " 

"The  ro'd  ^tween  this  an'  the  Muir's  no  easy  to 
lowse,"  said  Aggie. 

But  the  same  instant  her  face  flushed  hotter  than 

ever  fire  or  cooking  made  it ;  what  she  had  said  was 

in  itself  true,  but  what  she  had  not  said,  yet  meant 

him  to   understand,  was   not   true,  for   Grizzie   had 

597 


598  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

gone  nowhere  near  Muir  o'  Warlock.  Aggie  had 
never  told  a  lie  in  her  life,  and  almost  before  the 
words  were  out  of  her  mouth,  she  felt  as  if  the  solid 
earth  were  sinking  from  under  her  feet.  She  left  the 
spurtle  sticking  in  the  porridge,  and  dropped  into  the 
laird's  chair. 

"  What's  the  maitter  wi'  ye,  Aggie  t  "  said  Cosmo, 
hastening  to  her  in  alarm,  for  her  face  was  now  white, 
and  her  head  was  hanging  down. 

"  This  is  no  to  be  borne  ! "  she  cried,  and  started 
to  her  feet.     "  —  Cosmo,  I  tellt  ye  a  lee." 

"  Aggie  !  "  cried  Cosmo,  dismayed,  "  ye  never  tellt 
me  a  lee  i'  yer  life." 

"  Never  afore,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  I  hae  tellt  ye 
ane  noo  —  no  to  live  through  !  Grizzle's  no  gane  to 
Muir  o'  Warlock." 

*'  What  care  I  whaur  Grizzle's  gane !  "  rejoined 
Cosmo.     "  Tell  me  or  no  tell  me  as  ye  like." 

Aggie  burst  into  tears. 

"  Haud  yer  tongue,  Aggie,"  said  Cosmo,  trying  to 
soothe  her,  himself  troubled  with  her  trouble,  for  he 
too  was  sorry  she  should  almost  have  told  him  a  lie, 
and  his  heart  was  sore  for  her  misery.  Well  he 
knew  how  she  must  suffer,  having  done  a  thing 
so  foreign  to  her  nature !  "  It  could  be  little  mair 
at  the  warst,"  he  went  on,  "  than  a  slip  o'  the  wull, 
seein'  ye  made  sic  haste  to  set  it  richt  again.  For 
mysel',  I  s'  bainish  the  thoucht  o'  the  thing." 

"I  thank  ye,  Cosmo.  Ye  wad  aye  du  like  the 
Lord  himsel'.  But  there's  mair  intil  't.  I  dinna  ken 
what  to  du  or  say.  It's  a  sair  thing  to  stan'  'atween 
twa,  an'  no  ken  what  to  du   ohn  dune  mischeef  — 


DEFIANCE.  599 


maybe  wrang  !  —  There's  something  it  'maist  seems 
to  me  ye  hae  a  richt  to  ken,  but  I  canna  be  sure  ; 
an  yet " 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  hurried  opening  of  the 
door.  Grizzie  came  staggering  in,  with  a  face  of 
terror. 

"  Tu  \vi'  the  door  !  "  she  cried,  almost  speechless, 
and  sank  in  her  turn  upon  a  chair,  gasping  for 
breath,  and  dropping  at  her  feet  a  canvas  bag,  about 
the  size  of  a  pillow-case. 

Cosmo  closed  the  door  as  she  requested,  and 
Aggie  made  haste'  to  get  her  some  water,  which  she 
drank  eagerly.  After  a  time  of  panting  and  sighing, 
she  seemed  to  come  to  herself,  and  rose,  saying,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened, 

"  I  maun  see  to  the  supper." 

Cosmo  stooped  and  would  have  taken  up  the  bag, 
but  she  pounced  upon  it,  and  carried  it  with  her 
to  the  comer  of  the  fire,  where  she  placed  it  beyond 
her.  In  the  meantime  the  porridge  had  begun  to 
burn. 

"  Eh,  sirs  ! "  she  cried,  '*  the  parritch  '11  be  a'  sung 
—  no  to  mention  the  waste  o'  guid  meal !  Aggie, 
hoo  cud  ye  be  sae  careless  !  " 

"It  was  eneuch  to  gar  onybody  forget  the  pot 
to"  see  ye  come  in  like  that,  Grizzie  !  "  said  Cosmo. 

"  An'  what  '11  ye  say  to  the  tale  I  bring  ye  !  '* 
rejoined  Grizzie,  as  she  turned  the  porridge  into  a 
dish,  careful  not  to  scrape  too  hard  on  the  bottom  of 
the  pot. 

"  Tell's  a'  aboot  it,  Grizzie,  an'  bena  lang  aither, 
for  I  maun  gang  to  my  father." 


6oo  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Gang  til  'im.  Here's  naebody  wad  keep  ye  frae 
»im  !  " 

Cosmo  was  surprised  at  her  tone,  for  although  she 
took  abundant  liberty  with  the  young  laird,  he  had 
not  since  boyhood  known  her  rude  to  him. 

"  No  till  I  hear  yer  tale.  Grizzle,"  he  answered. 

"  An'  I  wad  fain  ken  what  ye'U  say  til  't,  for  ye 
never  wad  alloo  o'  kelpies;  an'  there's  me  been 
followed  by  a  sure  ane,  this  last  half-hoor  —  or  it  may 
be  less !  " 

"  Hoo  kenned  ye  it  was  a  kelpie  —  it's  maist  as 
dark 'spick?" 

"  Kenned  !  quo'  he  ?  Didna  I  hear  the  deevil 
ahin'  me  —  the  tramp  o'  a'  the  fower  feet  o'  'im,  as 
gien  they  had  been  fower  an'  twinty  !  " 

"  I  won'er  he  didna  win  up  wii  ye  than.  Grizzle  !  " 
suggested  Cosmo. 

"  Guid  kens  hoo  he  didna  ;  I  won'er  mysel'.  But 
I  trow  I  ran ;  an'  I  tak  ye  to  witness  I  garred  ye 
steik  the  door." 

"  But  they  say,"  objected  Cosmo,  who  could  not 
fail  to  perceive  from  what  Aggie  said  that  there  was 
something  going  on  which  it  behooved  him  to 
know,  "  that  the  kelpie  wons  aye  by  some  watter- 
side." 

"  Weel,  cam  I  no  by  the  tarn  o'  the  tap  o'  Stieve 
Know?" 

"  What  on  earth  was  ye  duin'  there  efter  dark, 
Grizzle  ? " 

"  What  was  I  duin'  ?  I  saidna  I  was  there  efter 
dark,  but  the  cratur  micht  hae  seen  me  pass  weel 
eneuch.     Wasna  I  ower  the  hill  to  my  ain  fowk  i' 


DEFIANCE.  6oi 


the  How  o'  Hap?  An'  didna  I  come  hame  by 
Luck's  Lift?  Mair  by  token,  wadna  the  guidman 
o'  that  same  hae  me  du  what  I  haena  dune  this  twae 
year,  or  maybe  twenty  —  tak  a  dram  ?  An'  didna  I 
tak  it  ?  An'  was  I  no  in  need  o'  't  ?  An'  didna 
I  come  hame  a'  the  better  for  't  ?  " 

"An'  get  a  sicht  o'  the  kelpy  intil  the  bargain  — 
eh,  Grizzie  ?  "  suggested  Cosmo. 

"  Hoots  !  gang  awa  up  to  the  laird,  an'  lea'  me  to 
get  my  breath  an'  your  supper  thegither,"  said 
Grizzie,  who  saw  to  what  she  had  exposed  herself. 
"An' I  wuss  ye  may  see  the  neist  kelpy  yersel' ! 
Only  whatever  ye  du,  Cosmo,  dinna  m'unt  upo'  the 
back  o'  'im,  for  he'lL  cairry  ye  straucht  hame  til  's 
maister  ;  an'  we  a'  ken  wha  he  is." 

"  I'm  no  gaein',"  said  Cosmo,  as  soon  as  the 
torrent  of  her  speech  allowed  him  room  to  answer, 
"  till  I  ken  what  ye  hae  i'  that  pock  o'  yours." 

"  Hoot ! "  cried  Grizzie,  and  snatching  up  the  bag, 
held  it  behind  her  back,  "ye  wad  never  mint  at  luik- 
in'  intil  an  auld  wife's  pock !  What  ken  ye  what  she 
michtna  hae  there  ? " 

"It  luiks  to  me  naither  mair  nor  less  nor  a  meal- 
pock,"  said  Cosmo. 

"Meal-pock!"  returned  Grizzie  with  contempt: 
"what  neist!" 

He  made  another  movement  to  seize  the  bag,  but 
she  caught  the  sprutle  from  the  empty  porridge-pot 
and  showed  fight  with  it,  in  genuine  earnest  beyond  a 
doubt  for  the  defence  of  her  pock.  Whatever  the 
secret  was,  it  looked  as  if  the  pock  were  somehow 
connected  with  it.     Cosmo  began  to  grow  very  un- 


6o2  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

comfortable.     So  strange  were  his  nascent  suspicions 
that  he  dared  not  for  a  time  allow  them  to  take  shape 
in  his  brain  lest  they  should  thereby  start  at  once  into 
the  life  of  fact.     His  mind  had,  for  the  last  few  days, 
been  much  occupied  with  the  question  of  miracles. 
Why,  he  thought  with  himself,  should  one  believing 
there  is  in  very  truth  a  live,  thinking,  perfect  Power 
at  the  heart  and  head  of  affairs,  count  it  impossible 
that,  in  their  great  and  manifest  need,  their  meal- 
chest  should  be  supplied  like  that  of  the  widow  of 
Zarephath.?     If  he  could  believe  the  thing  was  done 
then,  there  could  be  nothing  absurd  in  hoping  the 
thing  might  be  done  now.     If  it  was  possible  once,  it 
was  possible  in  the  same  circumstances  always.     It 
was   impossible,    however,    for    him  or   any   human 
being  to    determine    concerning    any   circumstances 
whether  they  were  or  were  not  the  same.     Wherever 
the  thing  was  not  done,  did  it  not  follow  that  the  cir- 
cumstances could  not  be  the  sam.e  ?     One  thing  he 
was  able  to  see  —  that,  in   the    altered   relations  of 
man's  mind  to  the  facts  of  Nature,  a  larger  faith  is 
necessary  to  believe  in    the  constantly  present  and 
ordering  will  of  the  Father  of  men,  than  in  the  un- 
usual phenomenon  of  a  miracle.     In  the  meantime  it 
_was  a  fact  that  they  had  all  hitherto  had  their  daily 
bread. 

But  now  this  strange  behaviour  of  Grizzle  set  him 
thinking  of  something  very  different.  And  why  did 
not  the  jeweller  make  some  reply  to  his  request  con- 
cerning the  things  he  had  sent  him  ?  He  said  to 
himself  for  the  hundredth  time  that  he  must  have 
found  it  impossible  to  do  anything  with  them,  and 


DEFIANCE.  603 


have  delayed  writing  from  unwillingness  to  cause  him 
disappointment,    but   he  could  not   help  a  growing 
soreness  that  his  friend  should  take  no  notice  of  the 
straits  he  had  confessed  himself  in.     The  conclusion 
of  the  whole  matter  was,  that  it  must  be  the  design  of 
Providence  to  make  him  part  with  the  last  clog  that 
fettered  him ;  he  was  to  have  no  ease  in  life  until  he 
had  yielded  the  castle !     If  it  were  so,  then  the  longer 
he  delayed  the  greater  would  be  the  loss.     To  sell 
everything  in  it  first  would  but  put  off  the  evil  day, 
preparing  for  them  so  much  the  more  poverty  when  it 
should  come;    whereas  if  he  were  to  part  with  the 
house  at  once,  and  take  his  father  where  he  could 
find  work,  they  would  be  able  to  have  some  of  the  old 
things  about  them  still,  to  tincture  strangeness  with 
home.     The  more  he  thought  the  more  it  seemed  his 
duty  to  put  a  stop  to  the  hopeless  struggle  by  con- 
senting in  full  and  without  reserve  to  the  social  deg- 
radation and  heart-sorrow  to  which  it  seemed  the  will 
of  God  to  bring  them.     Then  with  new  courage  he 
might  commence  a  new  endeavour,  no  more  on  the 
slippery  slope  of  descent,  but  with  the  firm  ground  of 
the  Valley  of  Humiliation  under  their  feet.      Long 
they  could  not  go  on  as  now,  and  he  was  ready  to  do 
whatever  was  required  of  him,  only  he  wished  God 
would  make  it  plain.     The  part  of  discipline  he  liked 
least — a   part   of   which    doubtless    we   do    not   yet 
at  all  understand  the  good  or  necessity — was  uncer- 
tainty of  duty,  the  uncertainty  of  what  it  was  God's 
will  he  should  do.     But  on  the  other  hand,  perhaps 
the  cause  of  that  uncertainty  was  the  lack  of  perfect 


6o4  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

readiness ;  perhaps  all  that  was  wanted  to  make  duty 
plain  was  absolute  will  to  do  it. 

These  and  other  such  thoughts  went  flowing  and 
ebbing  for  hours  in  his  mind  that  night,  until  at  last 
he  bethought  himself  that  his  immediate  duty  was 
plain  enough  —  namely,  to  go  to  sleep.  He  yielded 
his  consciousness  therefore  to  him  from  whom  it 
came,  and  did  sleep. 


CHAPTER  L. 

DISCOVERY   AND    CONFESSION. 

In  the  morning  he  woke  wondering  whether  God 
would  that  day  let  him  know  what  he  had  to  do.  He 
was  certain  he  would  not  have  him  leave  his  father ; 
anything  else  in  the  way  of  trouble  he  could  believe 
possible. 

The  season  was  now  approaching  the  nominal  com- 
mencement of  summer,  but  the  morning  was  very  cold. 
He  went  to  the  window.  Air  and  earth  had  the  look 
of  a  black  frost  —  the  most  ungenial,  the  most  kill- 
ing of  weathers.  Alas  !  that  was  his  father's  breath- 
ing :  his  bronchitis  was  worse  !  He  made  haste  to 
fetch  fuel  and  light  the  fire,  then  leaving  him  still 
asleep,  went  down  stairs.  He  was  earlier  than  usual, 
and  Grizzle  was  later;  only  Aggie  was  in  the  kitchen. 
Her  grandfather  was  worse  also.  Everything  pointed 
to  severer  straitening  and  stronger  necessity  :  this 
must  be  how  God  was  letting  him  know  what  he  had 
to  do! 

He  sat  down  and  suddenly,  for  a  moment,  felt  as 
605 


6o6  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

if  he  were  sitting  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Warlock 
river,  looking  up  at  the  house  where  he  was  born  and 
had  spent  his  days  —  now  the  property  of  another, 
and  closed  to  him  forever  !  Within  those  walls  he 
could  not  order  the  removal  of  a  straw !  could  not 
chop  a  stick  to  warm  his  father !  "  The  will  of  God 
be  done ! "  he  said,  and  the  vision  was  gone. 

Aggie  was  busy  getting  his  porridge  ready  —  which 
Cosmo  had  by  this  time  learned  to  eat  without  any 
accompaniment  —  and  he  bethought  himself  that  here 
was  a  chance  of  questioning  her  before  Grizzle  should 
appear. 

"  Come,  Aggie,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  I  want  to  ken 
what  for  Grizzle  was  in  sic  a  terror  aboot  her  pock 
last  nicht.     I'm  thinkin'  I  hae  a  richt  to  ken." 

"  I  wish  ye  wadna  speir,"  returned  Aggie,  after  but 
a  moment's  pause. 

"Aggie,"  said  Cosmo,  "gien  ye  tell  me  it's  nane  o' 
my  business,  I  winna  speir  again." 

"  Ye  aregnidf  Cosmo,  efter  the  w'y  I  behaved  to  ye 
last  nicht,"  she  answered,  with  a  tremble  in  her 
voice. 

"  Dinna  think  o'  't  nae  mair,  Aggie.  To  me  it  is 
as  gien  it  had  never  been.  My  hert's  the  same  to 
ye  as  afore  —  an'  justly.  I  believe  I  un'erstan'  ye 
whiles  'maist  as  weel  as  ye  du  yersel'." 

"  I  houp  whiles  ye  un'erstan'  me  better,"  answered 
Aggie.  "  Sair  do  I  m'urn  'at  the  shaidow  o'  that  lee 
ever  crossed  my  min'." 

"  It  was  but  a  shaidow,"  said  Cosmo. 

"  But  what  wad  ye  think  o'  yersel',  gien  it  had  been 
you  'at  sae  near  —  na,  I  winna  nibble  at  the  trowth 


DISCOVERY   AND    CONFESSION.  607 

ony  mair  —  gien  it  had  been  you,  I  wuU  say't,  'at  lee'd 
that  lee  —  sic  an'  ae  sas  it  was  ?  " 

"  I  wad  say  to  mysel'  'at  wi'  God's  help  I  was  the 
less  lik'ly  ever  to  tell  a  lee  again  ;  for  that  noo  I 
un'erstude  better  hoo  a  temptation  micht  come  upon 
a  body  a'  at  ance,  ohn  gien  'im  time  to  reflec'  —  an' 
sae   my   responsibility   was   the   greater." 

"  Thank  ye,  Cosmo,"  said  Aggie  humbly,  and  was 
silent. 

"  But,"  resumed  Cosnio,  "  ye  haena  tellt  me  yet 
'at  it's  nane  o'  my  business  what  Grizzle  had  in  her 
pock  last  nicht." 

"  Na,  I  cudna  tell  ye  that,  'cause  it  wadna  be  true. 
It  is  yer  business." 

"  What  was  i'  the  pock  than?  " 

"  Weel,  Cosmo,  ye  put  me  in  a  great  diffeeculty ; 
for  though  I  never  said  to  Grizzle  I  wadna  tell,  I 
made  nae  objection  — though  at  the  time  I  didna  like 
it  —  whan  she  tellt  me  what  she  was  gaein'  to  du; 
an'  sae  I  canna  help  fearin'  it  may  be  fause  to  her  to 
tell  ye.  Besides,  I  hae  latten  't  gang  sae  lang  ohn 
said  a  word,  'at  the  guid  auld  body  cud  never  jaloose 
I  wad  turn  upon  her  noo  an'  tell !  " 

"You  are  deadfully mysterious,  Aggie,"  said  Cosmo, 
"  and  in  truth  you  make  me  more  than  a  little  uncom- 
fortable. What  can  it  be  that  has  been  going  on  so 
long,  and  had  better  not  be  told  me !  Have  I  a  right 
to  know  or  have  I  not  ?  " 

'*Ye  hae  a  richt  to  ken,  I  do  believe,  else  I  wadna 
tell  ye,"  answered  Aggie.  "  I  was  terrified,  frae  the 
first,  to  think  what  ye  wad  say  til  't!  But  ye  see, 
what  was  there  left  ?     You,  an'  the  laird,  an'  my  father 


6o8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

was  a'  laid  up  thegither,  heaps  o'  things  wantit,  the 
meal  dune,  an'  life  depen'in'  upo'  fowk  haein'  what 
they  cud  ait  an'  drink  ! " 

As  she  spoke,  shadowy  horror  was  deepening  to 
monster  presence ;  the  incredible  was  gradually  as- 
suming shape  and  fact ;  the  hair  of  Cosmo's  head 
seemed  rising  up.  He  asked  no  more  questions,  but 
sat  waiting  the  worst. 

"  Dinna  be  ower  hard  upo'  Grizzle  an' me,  Cosmo," 
Aggie  went  on.  "  It  wasna  ^or  oorsel's  we  wad  hae 
dune  sic  a  thing  ;  an'  mavbe  there  was  nane  but  them 
we  did  it  for  'at  we  wad  hae  been  able  to  du't  for.  But 
I  hae  no  richt  to  say  we.  Blame,  gien  there  be  ony, 
I  hae  my  share  o' ;  but  praise,  gien  there  be  ony,  she 
has't  a';  for,  that  the  warst  michtna  come  to  the 
warst,  at  the  last  she  tuik  the  meal-pock,"  said  Aggie, 
and  burst  into  tears  as  she  said  it,  "an'  gaed  oot  wi'  't.'* 

"  Good  God !  "  cried  Cosmo,  and  for  some  moments 
was  dumb.  "  Lassie  !  "  he  said  at  length,  in  a  voice 
that  was  not  like  his  own,  "  didna  ye  ken  i'  yer  ain 
sowl  we  wad  raither  hae  dee'd  ? " 

"  There  'tis  !  That's  jist  what  for  Grizzle  wadna 
hae  ye  tellt !  But  dinna  think  she  gaed  to  ony  place 
whaur  she  was  kent,"  sobbed  Agnes,  "  or  appeart  to 
ony  to  be  ither  than  a  puir  auld  body  'at  gaed  aboot 
for  hersel'.  Dinna  think  aither  'at  ever  she  tellt  a 
lee,  or  said  a  word  to  gar  fowk  pity  her.  She  had  aye 
afore  her  the  possibility  o'  bein'  ca'd  til  accoont  some 
day.  But  I'm  thinkin'  gien  ye  had  applyt  to  her  an' 
no  to  me,  ye  wad  hae  h'ard  anither  mak  o'  a  defence 
frae  mine  !  Ae  thing  ye  may  be  sure  o'  —  there's  no 
a  body  a  hair  the  wiser." 


DISCOVERY    AND    CONFESSION.  609 

*'  What  difference  does  that  make  ?  "  cried  Cosmo. 
"  The  fact  remains." 

"  Hoot,  Cosmo  !  "  said  Agnes,  with  a  revival  of  old 
authority,  "ye're  takin'  the  thing  in  a  fashion  no 
worthy  o'  a  philosopher  —  no  to  say  a  Christian.  Ye 
tak  it  as  gien  there  was  shame  intil  't !  An'  gien 
there  wasna  shame,  I  daur  ye  to  priv  there  can  be 
ony  disgrace !  Gien  ye  come  to  that  wi'  't,  hoo  was 
the  Lord  o'  a'  himseP  supportit  whan  he  gaed  aboot 
cleanin'  oot  the  warl'  ?  Wasna  it  the  women  'at  gaed 
wi'  'im  'at  providit  a'  thing  ? " 

"  True  ;  but  that  was  very  different !  They  knew 
him,  all  of  them,  and  loved  him  —  knew  that  he  was 
doing  what  no  money  could  pay  for ;  that  he  was 
working  himself  to  death  for  them  and  for  their 
people  —  that  he  was  earning  the  whole  world.  Or 
at  least  they  had  a  far  off  notion  that  he  was  doing 
as  never  man  did,  for  they  knew  he  spake  as  never 
man  spake.  Besides  there  was  no  begging  there. 
He  never  asked  them  for  anything."  —  Here  Aggie 
shook  her  head  in  unbelief,  but  Cosmo  went  on.  — 
"  And  those  women,  some  of  them  anyhow,  were  rich, 
and  proud  to  do  what  they  did  for  the  best  and 
grandest  of  men.  But  what  have  we  done  for  the 
world  that  we  should  dare  look  to  it  to  help 
us?" 

"  For  that  maitter,  Cosmo,  are  na  we  a'  brithers  an' 
sisters  ?  A'  body's  brithers  an'  sisters  wi'  a'  body.  It's 
but  a  kin'  o'  a  some  mean  pride  'at  wadna  be  obleeged 
to  yer  ain  fowk,  efter  ye  hae  dune  yer  best.  Cosmo ! 
ilka  han'fu'  o'  meal  gi'en  i'  this  or  ony  hoose  by  them 
'at  wadna  in  like  need  accep'  the  same,  is  an  affront 


6lO  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

frae  brither  to  brither.  Them  'at  wadna  tak,  I  say, 
has  no  richt  to  gie." 

"  But  nobody  knew  the  truth  of  where  their  hand- 
ful of  meal  was  going.  They  thought  they  were  giv- 
ing it  to  a  poor  old  woman,  when  they  were  in  fact 
giving  it  to  men  with  a  great  house  over  their  heads. 
It's  a  disgrace,  an'  hard  to  beir,  Aggie !  " 

"  'Deed  the  thing's  hard  upon  's  a'  !  but  whaur  the 
disgrace  is,  I  will  not  condescen'  to  see.  Men  in  a 
muckle  hoose  !  Twa  o'  them  auld,  an'  a'  three  i' 
their  beds  no  fit  to  muv !  Div  ye  think  there's  ana 
o'  them  'at  gied  to  Grizzle,  'at  wad  hae  gi'en  less  — 
though  what  less  nor  the  han'fu'  o'  meal,  which  was 
a'  she  ever  got,  it  wad  be  hard  to  imaigine  —  had 
they  kent  it  was  for  the  life  o'  auld  Glenwarlock  —  a 
name  respeckit,  an'  mair  nor  respeckit,  whaurever  it's 
h'ard  .?  —  or  for  the  life  o'  the  yoong  laird,  vroucht 
to  deith  wi'  labourers'  wark,  an'  syne  'maist  smoored 
i'  storm  ?  —  or  for  auld  Jeames  Oracle,  'at's  led  a 
God-fearin'  life  till  he's  'maist  owejr  auld  to  live  ony 
langer.?  I  say  naething  aboot  Grizzle  an'  me,  wha 
cud  aye  tak  care  o'  oorsel's  gien  we  hadna  three  dowie 
men  to  luik  efter.  We  did  oor  best,  but  whan  a'  oor 
ain' siller  was  awa'  efter  the  lave,  we  cudna  win  awa' 
oorsel's  to  win  mair.  Gien  you  three  cud  hae  dune  for 
yersel's,  we  wad  hae  been  sen  'in'  ye  hame  some- 
thing." 

"  You  tell  me,"  said  Cosmo,  as  if  in  a  painful  dream, 
through  which  flashed  lovely  lights,  "  that  you  and 
Grizzle  spent  all  your  own  money  upon  us,  and  then 
Grizzle  went  out  and  begged  for  us  ? " 

"'Deed  there's  no  anither  word   for't  —  nor   was 


DISCOVERY   AND    CONFESSION.  6ll 

there  ae  thing  ither  to  be  dune !  "  Aggie  drew  her- 
self up,  and  went  on  with  solemnity.  "  Div  ye  think, 
Cosmo,  whaur  held  or  hert  or  fit  or  han'  cud  du  ony- 
thing  to  waur  aif  want  or  tribble  frae  you  or  the  laird, 
'at  Grizzle  or  myseP  wad  be  wantin'  that  day  ?  I  beg 
o'  yer  grace  ye  winna  lay  to  oor  chairge  what  we  war 
driven  til.  As  Grizzle  says,  we  war  jist  at  ane  mair 
wi'  desperation." 

Cosmo's  heart  was  full.  He  dared  not  speak.  He 
came  to  Aggie,  and  taking  her  hand,  looked  her  in 
the  face  with  eyes  full  of  tears.  She  had  been 
pale  as  sun-browned  could  be,  but  now  she  grew  red 
as  a  misty  dawn.  Her  eyes  fell,  and  she  began  to 
pull  at  the  hem  of  her  apron.  Grizzle's  step  was  on 
the  stair,  and  Cosmo,  not  quite  prepared  to  meet  her, 
walked  out. 

The  morning  was  neither  ^so  black  nor  so  cold  as 
he  had  imagined  it.  He  went  into  the  garden,  to  the 
nook  between  the  two  blocks,  there  sat  down,  and 
tried  to  think.  The  sun  was  not  far  above  the  hori- 
zon, and  he  was  in  the  cold  shade  of  the  kitchen-tower y 
but  he  felt  nothing,  and  sat  there  motionless.  The 
sun  came  southward,  looked  round  the  corner,  and 
found  him  there.  He  brought  with  him  a  lovely  fresh 
day.  The  leaves  were  struggling  out,  and  the  birds 
had  begun  to  sing.  Ah !  what  a  day  was  here,  had 
the  hope  of  the  boy  been  still  swelling  in  his  bosom  ! 
But  the  decree  had  gone  forth  !  no  doubt  remained ! 
no  refuge  of  uncertainty  was  left !  The  house  must 
follow  the  land !  Castle  Warlock  and  the  last  foot- 
hold of  soil  must  go,  that  wrong  should  not  follow 
ruin !     Were  those  divine  women  to  spend  money, 


6l2  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

time,  and  labour,  that  he  and  his  father  should  hold 
what  they  had  no  longer  any  right  to  hold  ?  Or  in 
beggary,  were  they  to  hide  themselves  in  the  yet  lower 
depth  of  begging  by  proxy,  in  their  grim  stronghold, 
living  upon  unacknowledged  charity,  as  their  ances- 
tors on  plunder !  He  dared  not  tell  his  father  what 
he  had  discovered  until  he  had  taken  at  least  the 
first  step  towards  putting  an  end  to  the  whole  false- 
hood. To  delay  due  action  was  of  all  things  what 
Cosmo  dreaded  ;  and  as  the  loss  mainly  affected  him- 
self, the  yielding  of  the  castle  must  primarily  be  his 
deed  and  not  his  father's.  He  rose  at  once  to 
do  it. 

The  same  moment  the  incubus  of  Grizzle's  meal- 
pock  was  lifted  from  his  bosom.  The  shame  was,  if 
shame  was  any,  that  they  should  have  been  living  in 
such  a  house  while  the  .thing  was  done.  When  the 
house  was  sold,  let  people  say  what  they  would !  In 
proportion  as  a  man  cares  to  do  what  he  ought, 
he  ceases  to  care  how  it  may  be  judged.  Of  all 
things  why  should  a  true  man  heed  the  unjust 
judgment  ? 

"  If  there  be  any  stain  upon  us,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  God  will  see  that  we  have  the  chance  of  wiping 
it  out ! " 

With  that  he  got  over  gate  and  wall,  and  took  his 
way  along  Grizzle's  path,  once  more,  for  the  time  at 
least,  an  undisputed  possession  of  the  people. 

But  while  he  was  thinking  in  the  garden,  Grizzie, 
who  knew  from  Aggie  that  her  secret  was  such  no 
more,  was  in  dire  distress  in  the  kitchen,  fearing  she 
had  offended  the  young  laird  beyond   remedy.     In 


DISCOVERY   AND   CONFESSION.  613 

great  anxiety  she  kept  going  every  minute  to  the  door, 
to  see  if  he  were  not  coming  in  to  have  his  breakfast. 
But  the  first  she  saw  of  him  was  his  back,  as  he  leaped 
from  the  top  of  the  wall.  She  ran  after  him  to  the 
gate. 

"  Sir !  sir  !  "  she  cried,  "  come  back ;  come  back, 
an'  I'll  gang  doon  upo'  my  auld  knees  to  beg  yer 
pardon." 

Cosmo  turned  the  moment  he  heard  her,  and  went 
back. 

When  he  reached  the  wall,  over  the  top  of  the  gate 
he  saw  Grizzle  on  her  knees  upon  the  round  paving 
stones  of  the  yard,  stretching  up  her  old  hands  to 
him,  as  if  he  were  some  heavenly  messenger  just 
descended,  whose  wrath  she  deprecated.  He  jumped 
over  wall  and  gate,  ran  to  her,  and  lifted  her  to  her 
feet,  saying, 

"  Grizzle,  wuman,  what  are  ye  aboot !  Bless  ye. 
Grizzle,  I  wad  'maist  as  sune  strive  wi'  my  ain  mither 
whaur  she  shines  i'  glory,  as  wi'  you ! " 

Grizzle's  face  began  to  work  like  that  of  a  child  in 
an  agony  between  pride  and  tears,  just  ere  he  breaks 
into  a  howl.  She  gripped  his  arm  hard  with  both 
hands,  and  at  length  faltered  out,  gathering  compo- 
sure as  she  proceeded, 

*'  Cosmo,  ye're  like  an  angel  o'  God  to  a'  'at  hae 
to  du  wi'  ye  I  Eh,  sic  an  accoont  o'  ye  as  I'll  hae  to 
gie  to  the  mither  o'  ye  whan  I  win  to  see  her !  For 
surely  they'll  lat  me  see  her,  though  they  may  weel 
no  think  me  guid  eneuch  to  bide  wi'  her  up  there,  for 
as  lang  as  we  was  thegither  doon  here  !  Tell  me,  sir, 
what  wad  ye  hae  me  du.     But  jist  ae  thing  I  maun 


6l4         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

say  :  —  gien  I  hadna  dune  as  I  did  du,  I  do  not  see 
hoo  we  cud  hae  won  throu'  the  winter." 

"  Grizzle,"  said  Cosmo,  i'  I  ken  ye  did  a'  for  the 
best,  an'  maybe  it  was  the  best.  The  day  may  come, 
Grizzie,  whan  we'll  gang  thegither  to  ca'  upo'  them 
'at  pat  the  meal  i'  yer  pock,  an'  return  them  thanks 
for  their  kin'ness." 

"  Eh,  na,  sir !  That  wad  never  du !  What  for  sud 
they  ken  onything  aboot  it !  They  war  jist  kin'-like 
at  lairge,  an'  to  naebody  in  partic'lar,  like  the  man 
wi'  his  sweirin'.  They  gae  to  me  jist  as  they  wad  to 
ony  unco  beggar  wife.  It  was  to  me  they  gae't,  no  to 
you.     Lat  it  a'  lie  upo'  me." 

*'  That  canna  be,  Grizzie,"  said  Cosmo.  "Ye  see 
ye're  ane  o'  the  faimily,  an'  whatever  ye  du,  I  maun 
haud  my  face  til." 

"God  bless  ye,  sir!  "  exclaimed  Grizzie,  and  turned 
towards  the  house,  entirely  relieved  and  satis- 
fied. 

"  But  eh,  sir !  "  she  cried,  turning  again,  "  ye  haena 
broken  yer  fast  the  day  !  " 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  feow  minutes,  an'  mak  a  brakf ast 
o'  't  by  or'nar',"  answered  Cosmo,  and  hastened  away 
up  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

IT   IS    NAUGHT,    SAITH    THE    BUYER. 

When  Cosmo  reached  the  gate  of  his  lordship's 
policy^  he  found  it  closed,  and  although  he  rang  the 
bell,  and  called  lustily  to  the  gate-keeper,  no  one 
appeared.  He  put  a  hand  on  the  top  of  the  gate,  and 
lightly  vaulted  over  it.  But  just  as  he  lighted,  who 
should  come  round  a  bend  in  the  drive  a  few  yards 
off,  but  Lord  Lick-my-loof  himself,  out  for  his  morning 
walk!  His" irritable  cantankerous  nature  would  have 
been  annoyed  at  sight  of  anyone  treating  his  gate  with 
such  disrespect,  but  when  he  saw  who  it  was  that  thus 
made  nothing  of  it — clearing  it  with  as  much  con- 
tempt as  a  lawyer  would  a  quibble  not  his  own  —  his 
displeasure  grew  to  indignation  and  anger. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord,"  said  Cosmo,  taking 
the  first  word  that  apology  might  be  immediate, 
"I  could  make  no  one  hear  me,  and  therefore  took 
the  liberty  of  describing  a  parabola  over  your 
gate." 

"A  verra  ill  fashiont  parabola  in  my  judgment,  Mr. 
615 


6l6         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

Warlock !  I  fear  you  have  been  learning  of  late  to 
think  too  little  of  the  rights  of  property." 

"  If  I  had  put  my  foot  on  your  new  paint,  my  lord, 
I  should  have  been  to  blame;  but  I  vaulted  clean 
over,  and  touched  nothing  more  than  if  the  gate  had 
been  opened  to  me." 

"I'll  have  an  iron  gate!" 

"  Not  on  my  account,  my  lord,  I  hope ;  for  I  have 
come  to  ask  you  to  put  it  out  of  my  power  to  offend 
any  more,  by  enabling  me  to  leave  Glen  warlock." 

"Well?"  returned  his  lordship,  and  waited. 

"I  find  myself  compelled  at  last,"  said  Cosmo,  not 
without  some  tremor  in  his  voice,  which  he  did  his 
best  to  quench,  "  to  give  you  the  refusal,  according  to 
your  request,  of  the  remainder  of  my  father's  prop- 
erty." 

"House  and  all.?" 

"  Everything  except  the  furniture." 

"Which  I  do  not  want." 

A  silence  followed. 

"May  I  ask  if  your  lordship  is  prepared  to  make 
me  an  offer.?  —  or  will  you  call  on  my  father  when 
you  have  made  up  your  mind.? " 

"  I  will  give  two  hundred  pounds  for  the  lot." 

"  Two  hundred  pounds  !  "  repeated  Cosmo,  who 
had  not  expected  a  large  offer,  but  was  unprepared 
for  one  so  small;  "why,  my  lord,  the  bare  building 
material  would  be  worth  more  than  that ! " 

"Not  to  take  it  down.  I  might  as  well  blast  it 
fresh  from  the  quarry.  I  know  the  sort  of  thing 
those  walls  of  yours  are !  Vitrified  with  age,  by 
George !     But  I  don't  want  to  build,  and  standing  the 


IT    IS    NAUGHT,    SAITH    THE    BUYER.  617 

place  is  of  no  use  to  me.  I  should  but  let  it  crumble 
away  at  its  leisure !  " 

Cosmo's  dream  rose  again  before  his  mind's  eye ; 
but  it  was  no  more  with  pain;  for  if  the  dear  old 
place  was  to  pass  from  their  hands,  what  other  end 
could  be  desired  for  it ! 

"But  the  sum  you  mention,  my  lord,  would  not, 
after  paying  the  little  we  owe,  leave  us  enough  to  take 
us  from  the  place !  " 

"  That  I  should  be  sorry  for ;  but  as  to  paying, 
many  a  better  man  has  never  done  that.  You  have 
my  offer:  take  it  or  leave  it.  You'll  not  get  half  as 
much  if  it  come  to  the  hammer.  To  whom  else  would 
it  be  worth  anything,  bedded  in  my  property  ?  If  I 
say  I  don't  want  it,  see  if  anybody  will !  " 

Cosmo's  heart  sank  afresh.  He  dared  not  part 
with  the  place  off  hand  on  such  terms,  but  must 
consult  his  father :  his  power  of  action  was  for  the 
time  exhausted ;  he  could  do  no  more  alone  —  not 
even  to  spare  his  father. 

"  I  must  speak  to  the  laird,"  he  said.  "  I  doubt  if 
he  will  accept  your  offer." 

"  As  he  pleases.  But  1  do  not  promise  to  let  the 
offer  stand.  I  make  it  now  —  not  to-morrow,  or  an 
hour  hence." 

"  I  must  run  the  risk,"  answered  Cosmo.  "  Will 
you  allow  me  to  jump  the  gate  ? " 

But  his  lordship  had  a  key,  and  preferred  open- 
ing it. 

When  Cosmo  reached  his  father's  room,  he  found 
him  not  yet  thinking  of  getting  up,  and  sat  down  and 
told  him  all  —  to  what   straits  they  were   reduced; 


6l8  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

what  Grizzle  had  felt  herself  compelled  to  do  in  his 
illness  ;  how  his  mind  and  heart  and  conscience  had 
been  exercised  concerning  the  castle;  how  all  his 
life,  for  so  it  seemed  now,  the  love  of  it  had  held  him 
to  the  dust ;  where  and  on  what  errand  he  had  been 
that  morning,  with  the  result  of  his  interview  with 
Lord  Lick-my-loof.  He  had  fought  hard,  he  said, 
and  through  the  grace  of  God  had  overcome  his 
weakness — so  far  at  least  that  it  should  no  more 
influence  his  action  ;  but  now  he  could  go  no  further 
without  his  father.     He  was  equal  to  no  more. 

"  I  would  not  willingly  be  left  out  'of  your  troubles, 
my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  cheerfully.  "  Leave  me 
alone  a  little.  There  is  one,  you  know,  who  is  nearer 
to  each  of  us  than  we  are  to  each  other :  I  must  talk 
to  him  —  your  father  and  my  father,  in  whom  you  and 
I  are  brothers." 

Cosmo  bowed  in  reverence,  and  withdrew. 

After  the  space  of  nearly  half  an  hour,  he  heard 
the  signal  with  which  his  father  was  in  the  habit  of 
calling  him,  and  hastened  to  him. 

The  laird  held  out  his  old  hand  to  him. 

"Come,  my  son,"  he  said,  "and  let  us  talk  to- 
gether as  two  of  the  heirs  of  all  things.  It's  unco 
easy  for  me  to  regaird  wi'  equanimity  the  loss  o'  a 
place  I  am  on  the  point  o'  leavin'  ior  the  hame  o'  a' 
hames  —  the  dwellin'  o'  a'  the  loves,  withoot  the  dim 
memory  or  foresicht  o'  which  —  I'm  thinkin'  they 
maun  be  aboot  the  same  thing  —  we  could  never 
hae  lo'ed  this  auld  place  as  we  du,  an'  whaur,  ance 
I'm  in,  a'thing  doon  here  maun  dwindle  ootworthied 
by  reason  o'  the  glory  that  excelleth  —  I  dinna  mean 


IT   IS    NAUGHT,    SAITH    THE    BUYER.  619 

the  glory  o'  pearls  an'  gowd,  or  even  o'  licht,  but  the 
glory  o'  love  an'  trowth.  But  gien  I've  ever  had  ony- 
thing  to  ca'  an  ambition,  Cosmo,  it  has  been  that 
my  son  should  be  ane  o'  the  wise,  wi'  faith  to  believe 
what  his  father  had  learned  afore  him,  an'  sae  start 
farther  on  upo'  the  narrow  way  than  his  father  had 
startit.  My  ambition  has  been  that  my  endeavours 
and  my  experience  should  in  such  measure  avail  for 
my  boy,  as  that  he  should  begin  to  make  his  own 
endeavours  and  gather  his  own  experience  a  little 
nearer  that  perfection  o'  life  efer  which  oor  divine 
nature  groans  an'  cries,  even  while  unable  to  know 
what  it  wants.  Blessed  be  the  voice  that  tells  us  we 
maun  forsake  all,  and  take  up  our  cross,  and  follow 
him,  losing  our  life  that  we  may  find  it !  For  whaur 
wad  he  hae  us  follow  him  but  til  his  ain  hame,  to  the 
verra  bosom  o'  his  God  an'  oor  God,  there  to  be  ane 
wi'  the  Love  essential !  " 

Such  a  son  as  Cosmo  could  not  listen  to  such  a 
father  saying  such  things,  and  not  drop  the  world  as 
if  it  were  no  better  than  the  burnt  out  cinder  of  the 
moon. 

"  When  men  desire  great  things,  then  is  God  ready 
to  hear  them,"  he  said ;  "  and  so  it  is,  I  think,  father, 
that  he  has  granted  your  desires  for  me  :  I  desire 
nothing  but  to  fulfil  my  calling." 

"  Then  ye  can  pairt  wi'  the  auld  hoose  ohn  grutten  ? " 

"As  easy,  father,  as  wi'  a  piece  whan  I  wasna 
hungry.  I  do  not  say  that  another  mood  may  not 
come,  for  you  know  the  flesh  lusteth  against  the  spirit 
as  well  as  the  spirit  against  the  flesh  ;  but  in  my 
present  mood  of  light  and  peace,  I  rejoice  to  part  with 


62  O  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

the  house  as  a  victory  of  the  spirit.  Shall  I  go  to  his 
lordship  at  once  and  accept  his  offer  ?     I  am  ready." 

"  Do,  my  son.  I  think  I  have  not  long  to  live,  and 
the  money,  though  little,  is  large  in  this,  that  it  will 
enable  me  to  pay  the  last  of  my  debts,  and  die  in  the 
knowledge  that  I  leave  you  a  free  man.  You  will 
easily  provide  for  yourself  when  I  am  gone,  and  I 
know  you  will  not  forget  Grizzle.  For  Jeames  Gracie, 
he  maun  hae  his  share  o'  the  siller  because  o'  the 
croft :  we  maun  calculate  it  fairly.  He'll  no  want 
muckle  mair  i'  this  warl'.  Aggie  'ill  be  as  safe's  an 
angel  ony  gait.  An',  Cosmo,  whatever  God  may 
mean  to  du  wi'  you  i'  this  warl',  ye'll  hae  an  abun- 
dant entrance  ministered  to  ye  intil  the  kingdom'  o' 
oor  Lord  an'  Saviour.  Wha  daur  luik  for  a  better  fate 
nor  that  o'  the  Lord  himsel' !  But  there  was  them  'at 
by  faith  obtained  kingdoms,  as  weel  as  them  wha  by 
faith  were  sawn  asunder  :  they  war  baith  martyrdoms ; 
an'  whatever  God  sen's,  we  s'  tak." 

"  Then  you  accept  the  two  hundred  for  croft  and 
all,  father?" 

"  Dinna  ettle  at  a  penny  more  ;  he  micht  gang 
back  upo'  't.     Regaird  it  as  his  final  offer." 

Cosmo  rose  and  went,  strong-hearted,  and  without 
a  single  thought  that  pulled  back  from  the  sacrifice. 
There  was  even  a  certain  pleasure  in  doing  the  thing 
just  because  in  another  and  lower  mood  it  would  have 
torn  his  heart :  the  spirit  was  rejoicing  against  the 
flesh.  To  be  rid  of  the  castle  would  be  to  feel,  far 
off,  as  the  young  man  would  have  felt  had  he  given 
all  to  the  poor  and  followed  the  master.  With  the 
strength  of  a  young  giant  he  strode  along. 


IT    IS    NAUGHT,    SAITH    THE    BUYER.  62 1 

When  he  reached  the  gate,  there  was  my  lord  lean- 
ing over  it. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  back  soon  !  I  knew  the 
old  cock  would  have  more  sense  than  the  young  one  ; 
and  I  didn't  want  my  gate  scrambled  over  again,"  he 
said,  but  without  moving  to  open  it. 

"My  father  will  take  your  lordship's  offer,"  said 
Cosmo. 

"  I  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  fool  of  myself, 
and  adding  another  fifty  to  be  certain  of  getting  rid 
of  you ;  but  I  came  to  the  conclusion  it  was  a  piece 
of  cowardice,  and  that,  as  I  had  so  long  stood  the 
dirty  hovel  at  my  gate  because  I  couldn't  help  it,  I 
might  just  as  well  let  you  find  your  own  way  out  of 
the  parish." 

"  I  am  sure  from  your  lordship's  point  of  view  you 
were  right,"  said  Cosmo.  "We  shall  content  our- 
selves, anyhow,  with  the  two  hundred." 

"  Indeed  you  will  not !  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  would 
not  be  bound  by  the  offer  ?  I  have  changed  my  mind, 
and  mean  to  wait  for  the  sale." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  quite  understand 
your  lordship." 

"You  do  now,  I  trust !  " 

'•  Perfectly,  my  lord,"  replied  Cosmo,  and  turning 
away  left  his  lordship  grinning  over  the  gate.  But 
he  had  a  curious  look,  almost  as  if  he  were  a  little 
ashamed  of  himself- — as  if  he  had  only  been  teasing 
the  young  fellow,  and  thought  perhaps  he  had  gone 
too  far.  For  Cosmo,  in  such  peace  was  his  heart, 
that  he  was  not  even  angry  with  the  man. 

On  his  way  home,  the  hope  awoke,  and  began  once 


62  2  WARLOCK    o'    GLENWARLOCK. 

more  to  whisper  itself,  that  they  might  not  be  able  to 
sell  the  place  at  all ;  that  some  other  way  would  be 
provided  for  their  leaving  it ;  and  that,  when  he  was 
an  old  man,  he  would  be  allowed  to  return  to  die  in 
it.  But  up  started  his  conscience,  jealously  watchful 
lest  hope  should  undermine  submission,  or  weaken 
resolve.  God  might  indeed  intend  they  should  not 
be  driven  ^from  the  old  house  !  but  he  kept  Abraham 
going  from  place  to  place,  and  never  let  him  own  a 
foot  of  land,  except  so  much  as  was  needful  to  bury 
his  dead.  And  there  was  our  Lord  :  he  had  not  a 
place  to  lay  his  head,  and  had  to  go  out  of  doors  to 
pray  to  his  father  in  secret !  The  only  things  to  be 
anxious  about  were,  that  God's  will  should  be  done, 
and  that  it  should  not  be  modified  by  any  want  of 
faith  or  obedience  or  submission  on  his  part.  Then 
it  would  be  God's  very  own  will  that  was  done,  and 
not  something  composite,  in  part  rendered  necessary 
by  his  opposition.  If  God's  pure  will  was  done,  he 
must  equally  rejoice  whether  that  will  took  or  gave 
the  castle  ! 

And  so  he  returned  to  his  father. 

When  he  told  him  the  result  of  his  visit,  the  laird 
expressed  no  surprise. 

"  He  maketh  the  wrath  o'  man  to  praise  him,"  he 
said.     "  This  will  be  for  our  good." 

The  whole  day  after,  there  was  not  between  them 
another  allusion  to  the  matter.  •  Cosmo  read  to  his 
father  a  ballad  he  had  just  written.  The  old  man 
was  pleased  with  it ;  for  what  most  would  have  counted 
a  great  defect  in  Cosmo's  imagination  was  none  to 
him  —  this  namely,  that  he  never  could  get  room  for 


IT    IS    NAUGHT,    SAITH    THE    BUYER  623 

it  in  this  world  ;  to  his  way  of  feeling,  the  end  of 
things  never  came  here ;  what  end,  or  seeming  end 
came,  was  not  worth  setting  before  his  art  as  a  goal 
for  which  to  make ;  in  its  very  nature  it  was  no  finis 
at  all,  only  the  merest  close  of  a  chapter. 

This  was  the  ballad,  in  great  part  the  result  of  a 
certain  talk  with  Mr.  Simon. 


The  miser  he  lay  on  his  lonely  bed, 
Life's  candle  was  burning  dim, 

His  heart  in  his  iron  chest  was  hid, 
Under  heaps  of  gold  and  a  well  locked  lid, 
And  whether  it  were  alive  or  dead, 
It  never  troubled  him. 


Slowly  out  of  his  body  he  crept , 
Said  he,  "  I  am  all  the  same  ! 

Only  I  want  my  heart  in  my  breast ; 
I  will  go  and  fetch  it  out  of  the  chest." 
Swift  to  the  place  of  his  gold  he  stept  — 
He  was  dead  but  had  no  shame  ! 

He  opened  the  lid  —  oh,  hell  and  night ! 
For  a  ghost  can  see  no  gold  ; 
Empty  and  swept  —  not  a  coin  was  there  I 
His  heart  lay  alone  in  the  chest  so  bare  ! 
He  felt  with  his  hands,  but  they  had  no  might 
To  finger  or  clasp  or  hold  ! 

At  his  heart  in  the  bottom  he  made  a  clutch  — 
A  heart  or  a  puff-ball  of  sin  ? 
Eaten  with  moths,  and  fretted  with  rust, 
He  grasped  but  a  handful  of  dry-rotted  dust 
It  was  a  horrible  thing  to  touch, 
But  he  hid  it  his  breast  within. 


624         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

And  now  there  are  some  that  see  him  sit 
In  the  charnel  house  alone, 

Counting  what  seems  to  him  shining  gold, 
Heap  upon  heap,  a  sum  ne'er  told : 
Alas,  the  dead,  how  they  lack  of  wit ! 
They  are  not  even  bits  of  bone  ! 

Another  miser  has  got  his  chest, 
And  his  painfully  hoarded  store ; 
Like  ferrets  his  hands  go  in  and  out, 
Burrowing,  tossing  the  gold  about; 
And  his  heart  too  is  out  of  his  breast, 
Hid  in  the  yellow  ore. 

Which  is  the  better —  the  ghost  that  sits 
Counting  shadowy  coin  all  day. 

Or  the  man  that  puts  his  hope  and  trust 
In  a  thing  whose  value  is  only  his  lust  ? 
Nothing  he  has  when  out  he  flits 
But  a  heart  all  eaten  away. 

That  night,  as  he  lay  thinking,  Cosmo  resolved  to 
set  out  on  the  morrow  for  the  city,  on  foot,  and  begging 
his  way  if  necessary.  There  he  would  acquamt  Mr. 
Burns  with  the  straits  they  were  in,  and  require  of 
him  his  best  advice  how  to  make  a  living  for  himself 
and  his  father  and  Grizzle.  As  for  James  and  Agnes, 
they  might  stay  at  the  castle,  where  he  would  do  his 
best  to  help  them.  As  soon  as  his  father  had  had 
his  breakfast,  he  would  let  him  know  his  resolve,  and 
with  his  assent,  would  depart  at  once.  His  spirits 
rose  as  he  brooded.  What  a  happy  thing  it  was  that 
Lord  Lick-my-loof  had  not  accepted  their  offer!  all 
the  time  they  saw  themselves  in  a  poor  lodging  in  a 
noisy  street,  they  would  know  they  had  their  own 
strong  silent  castle  waiting  to  receive  them,  as  soon  as 


IT    IS    NAUGHT,    SAITH    THE    BUYER.  625 

they  should  be  able  to  return  to  it !  Then  the  words 
came  to  him  :  "  Here  we  have  no  continuing  city,  but 
we  seek  one  to  come." 

The  special  discipline  for  some  people  v/ould  seem 
to  be  that  they  shall  never  settle  down,  or  feel  as  if 
they  were  at  home,  until  they  are  at  home  in  very  fact. 

"  Anyhow,"  said  Cosmo  to  himself,  "  such  a  castle 
we  have ! " 

To  be  lord  of  space,  a  man  must  be  free  of  all 
bonds  to  place.  To  be  heir  of  all  things,  his  heart 
must  have  no  things  in  it.  He  must  be  like  him  v/ho 
makes  things,  not  like  one  who  would  put  everything 
in  his  pocket.  He  must  stand  on  the  upper,  not  the 
lower  side  of  them.  He  must  be  as  the  man  who 
makes  poems,  not  the  man  who  gathers  books  of 
verse.  God,  having  made  a  sunset,  lets  it  pass,  and 
makes  such  a  sunset  no  more.  He  has  no  picture- 
gallery,  no  library.  What  if  In  heaven  men  shall  be 
so  busy  growing,  that  they  have  not  time  to  write  or 
to  read ! 

How  blessed  Cosmo  would  live,  with  his  father  and 
Grizzie  and  his  books,  in  the  great  city  —  in  sonie 
such  place  as  he  had  occupied  when  at  the  universit}- ! 
The  one  sad  thing  was  that  he  could  not  be  with  his 
father  all  day;  but  so  much  the  happier  would  be  the 
home-coming  at  night !  Thus  imagining,  he  fell 
fast  asleep. 

He  dreamed  that  he  had  a  barrow  of  oranges,  with 
which  he  had  been  going  about  the  streets  all  day, 
trying  in  vain  to  sell  them.  He  was  now  returning 
home,  the  barrow  piled,  as  when  he  set  out  in  the 
corning,  with  the  golden  fruit.     He  consoled  himself 


626  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

however  with  the  thought,  that  his  father  was  fond  of 
oranges,  and  now  might  have  as  many  as  he  pleased. 
But  as  he  wheeled  the  barrow  along,  it  seemed  to 
grow  heavier  and  heavier,  and  he  feared  his  strength 
was  failing  him,  and  he  would  never  get  back  to  his 
father.  Heavier  and  heavier  it  grew,  until  at  last,  al- 
though he  had  it  on  the  pavement  —  for  it  was  now 
the  dead  of  the  night — he  could  but  just  push  it 
along.  At  last  he  reached  the  door,  and  having 
laboriously  wheeled  it  into  a  shed,  proceeded  to 
pick  from  it  a  few  of  the  best  oranges  to  take  up  to 
his  father.  But  when  he  came  to  lift  one  from  the 
heap,  lo,  it  was  a  lump  of  gold !  He  tried  another  and 
another :  every  one  of  them  was  a  lump  of  solid  gold. 
It  was  a  dream-version  of  the  golden  horse.  Then 
all  at  once  he  said  to  himself,  nor  knew  why,  "  My 
father  is  dead  !  "  and  woke  in  misery.  It  was  many 
moments  before  he  quite  persuaded  himself  that  he 
had  but  dreamed.  He  rose,  went  to  his  father's  bed- 
side, found  him  sleeping  peacefully,  and  lay  down 
comforted,  nor  that  night  dreamed  any  more. 

"What,"  he  said  to  himself,  "would  money  be 
to  me  without  my  father  !  " 

Some  of  us  shrink  from  making  plans  because  ex- 
perience has  shown  us  how  seldom  they  are  real- 
ized. Not  the  less  are  the  plans  we  do  make  just  as 
subject  to  overthrow  as  the  plans  of  the  most  prolific 
and  minute  of  projectors.  It  was  long  since  Cosmo 
had  made  any,  and  the  resolve  with  which  he  now 
fell  asleep  was  as  modest  as  wise  man  could  well 
cherish  ;  the  morning  nevertheless  went  differently 
from  his  intent  and  expectation. 


CHAPTER  LII. 


AN    OLD    STORY. 


He  was  roused  before  sunrise  by  his  father's  cough. 
After  a  bad  fit,  he  was  very  weary  and  restless.  Now, 
in  such  a  condition,  Cosmo  could  almost  always  put 
him  to  sleep  by  reading  to  him,  and  he  therefore  got  a 
short  story,  and  began  to  read.  At  first  it  had  the 
desired  effect,  but  in  a  little  while  he  woke,  and  asked 
him  to  go  on.  The  stor}'  was  of  a  king's  ship  so  dis- 
guising herself  that  a  pirate  took  her  for  a  merchant- 
man ;  and  Cosmo,  to  whom  it  naturally  recalled  the 
Old  Captain,  made  some  remark  about  him. 

"  You  mustn't  believe,"  said  his  father,  "  all  they 
told  you  when  a  boy  about  that  uncle  of  ours.  No 
doubt  he  was  a  rough  sailor  fellow,  but  I  do  not  believe 
there  was  any  ground  for  calling  him  a  pirate.  I  don't 
suppose  he  was  anything  worse  than  a  privateer, 
which,  God  knows,  is  bad  enough.  I  fancy,  how- 
ever, for  the  most  of  his  sea-life  he  was  captain  of  an 
East  Indiaman,  probably  trading  on  his  own  account 
at  the  same  time.  That  he  made  money  I  do  not 
627 


628  WARLOCK   O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


doubt,  but  very  likely  he  lost  it  all  before  he  came 
home,  and  was  too  cunning,  in  view  of  his  probable 
reception,  to  confess  it." 

"I  remember  your  once  telling  me  an  amusing 
story  of  an  adventure  —  let  me  see  —  yes,  that  was  in 
an  East  Indiaman  :  was  he  the  captain  of  that  one  ?" 

"  No  —  a  very  different  man  —  a  cousin  of  your 
mother's  that  was.  I  was  thinking  of  it  a  minute  ago  ; 
it  has  certain  points,  if  not  of  resemblance,  then  of 
contrast  with  the  story  you  have  just  been  reading." 

"  I  should  like  much  to  hear  it  again,  when  you  are 
able  to  tell  it." 

"  I  have  got  it  all  in  writing.  It  was  amongst  my 
Marion's  papers.  You  will  find,  in  the  bureau  in  the 
book-closet,  in  the  pigeon-hole  farthest  to  the  left,  a 
packet  tied  with  red  tape  :  bring  that,  and  I  will  find 
it  for  you." 

Cosmo  brought  the  bundle  of  papers,  and  his  father 
handed  him  one  of  them,  saying,  "  This  narrative  was 
written  by  a  brother  of  your  mother's.  The  Captain 
Macintosh  who  is  the  hero  of  the  story,  was  a  cousin 
of  her  mother,  and  at  the  time  of  the  event  related 
must  have  been  somewhat  advanced  in  years,  for  he 
had  now  returned  to  his  former  profession  after  hav- 
ing lost  largely  in  an  attempt  to  establish  a  brewery 
on  the  island  of  St.  Helena  !  " 

Cosmo  unfolded  the  manuscript,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"'An  incident  occurring  on  the  voyage  to  Incfia 
when  my  brother  went  out,  exhibits  Captain  Macin- 
tosh's character  very  practically,  and  not  a  little  to 
his  professional  credit. 


AN    OLD    STORY.  629 


"*On  a  fine  evening  some  days  after  rounding  the 
cape  of  Good  Hope,  sailing  with  a  light  breeze  and 
smooth  water,  a  strange  sail  of  large  size  hove  in 
sight,  and  apparently  bearing  down  direct  upon  the 
"Union,"  Captain  Macintosh's  ship ;  evidently  a  ship 
of  war,  but  showing  no  colours  — a  very  suspicious  fact. 
All  English  ships  at  that  time  trading  to  and  from 
India,  by  admiralty  rules,  were  obliged  to  carry  arma- 
ments proportioned  to  their  tonnage,  and  crew  suffi- 
cient to  man  and  work  the  guns  carried.  The  strange 
sail  was  nearing  them,  or  "the  big  stranger,"  as  the 
seamen  immediately  named  her.  My  brother,  many 
years  afterwards,  more  than  once  told  me,  that  the 
change,  or  rather  the  transformation,  which  Captain 
Macintosh  wider^ent,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
facts  he  had  ever  witnessed ;  more  bordering  on  the 
marvellous,  than  anything  else.  When  he  had  care- 
fully and  deliberately  viewed  the  ''  big  stranger,"  and 
deliberately  laying  down  his  glass,  his  eyes  seemed 
to  have  catched  fire!  and  his  whole  countenance 
lighted  up  ;  a  new  spirit  seemed  to  possess  him,  while 
he  preserved  the  utmost  coolness  :  advancing  delib- 
erately to  what  is  called  the  poop  railing,  and  steadily 
looking  forward — "Boatswain!  Pipe  to  quarters." 
Muster  roll  called.  —  "  Now,  my  men,  we  shall  fight! 
I  know  you  will  do  it  well !  —  Clear  ship  for  action ! " 
I  have  certainly  but  my  brother's  word  and  judgment 
upon  the  fact,  who- had  never  been  under  fire ;  but 
his  opinion  was,  that  no  British  ship  of  war  could 
have  been  more  speedily,  or  more  completely  cleared 
for  action,  both  in  rigging,  decks,  and  guns,  —  guns 
double  shotted  and  run  out  into  position.     "  The  big 


630  WARLOCK    O'   GLENWARLOCK. 

Stranger  "  was  now  nearing,  —  no  ports  opened,  and 
no  colours  shewn  —  all,  increased  cause  of  suspicion 
that  there  was  some  ill  intent  in  the  wind  —  and  it 
was  very  evident,  from  the  size  of  "  the  big  stranger" 
—  nearly  thrice  the  size  of  the  little  "  Union,"  —  that^ 
one  broad  side  from  the  former,  might  send  the  latter 
at  once  to  the  bottom  :  —  the  whole  crew,  my  brother 
related,  were  in  the  highest  spirits,  more  as  if  prepar- 
ing for  a  dance,  than  for  work  of  life  and  death. 
Suddenly,  the  captain  gives  the  command, —  "  Board- 
ers, —  Prepare  to  board  !  —  Lower  away,  boarding 
Boats "  —  and  no  sooner  said  than  done.  The 
stranger  was  now  at  musket-shot.  It  was  worthy  the 
courage  of  a  Nelson  or  a  Cochrane,  to  think  of  board- 
ing at  such  odds  ;  — a  mere  handful  of  men,  to  a  full 
complement  of  a  heavy  Frigate's  crew !  The  idea 
was  altogether  in  keeping  with  the  best  naval  tactics 
and  skill.  Foreseeing  that  one  broadside  from  such 
an  enemy  would  sink  him,  he  must  anticipate  such  a 
crisis.  Boarding  would  at  least  divert  the  enemy 
from  their  guns;  and  he  knew  what  British  seamen 
could  do,  in  clearing  an  enemy's  decks !  There  was 
British  spirit  in  those  days.  Let  us  hope  it  shall 
again  appear,  should  the  occasion  arise.  The  captain 
himself  was  the  first  in  the  foremost  Boarding  Boat  — 
and  the  first  in  the  enemy's  main  chains,  and  to  set  his 
foot  on  the  enemy's  main  deck !  when  a  most  magic- 
like scene  saluted  the  Boarders  ;  but  did  not  yet  allay 
suspicion  :  —  not  a  single  enemy  on  deck  !  —  Here,  a 
characteristic  act  of  a  British  tar  —  the  Union's 
Boatswain, — must  not  be  omitted — an  old  man  of 
war's   man  :  —  no  sooner  had  his  foot  touched    the 


AN    OLD    STORY.  63 1 


enemy s  deck,  than  rushing  aft —  (or  towards  the  ship's 
stern)  —  to  the  wheel,  —  the  only  man  on  deck  being  he 
at  the  wheel,  —  a  big,  lubberly  looking  man,  —  the 
Union's  boatswain  in  less  than  a  moment  had  his 
hands  to  the  steersman's  throat,  —  and  with  one  fell 
shove,  sent  him  spinning,  heels  over  head  —  all  the 
full  length  of  the  ship's  quarter-deck,  to  land  on  the 
main-deck  ;  —  one  may  suppose  rather  astojiished! 
The  manly  boatswain  himself  was  the  only  man  hurt 
in  the  affair  —  his  boarding  pistol,  by  some  untoward 
accident,  w^ent  off,  —  its  double  shot  running  up  his 
fore-arm,  and  lodging  in  the  bones  of  his  elbow. 
Amputation  became  necessary ;  and  the  dear  old 
fellow  soon  afterwards  died. 

" '  But  what  did  all  this  hullybaloo  come  to  t 
Breathe  —  and  we  shall  hear  !  "  The  Big  Stranger  " 
turned  out  to  be  a  large,  heavy  armed  Portuguese 
Frigate  !  —  Actually  the  war-ship  solitary  of  the  Portu- 
guese navy  then  afloat !  —  a  fine  specimen  of  Portu- 
guese naval  discipline,  no  doubt !  —  not  a  watch  even 
on  deck  !  —  They  had  seen  immediately  on  seeing  her, 
that  the  "  Union  "  was  English,  and  a  merchant  ship 
—  which  a  practised  seaman's  eye  can  do  at  once  ; 
and  they  had  quietly  gone  to  take  their  siesta,  after 
their  countr}^'s  fashion — Portugal,  at  that  time,  being 
one  of  Britain's  allies,  and  not  an  enemy  ;  —  a  griev- 
ous disappointment  to  the  crew  of  the  *'  Union."  ' 

"My  uncle  seems  to  have  got  excited  as  he  went 
on,"  said  Cosmo,  "  to  judge  by  the  number  of  words 
he  has  underlined  !  " 

"  He  enters  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  pretty  well 
for  a  clergyman  ! "  said  the  laird. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


A  SMALL  DISCOVERY. 


When  they  had  had  a  little  talk  over  the  narrative, 
the  laird  desired  Cosmo  to  replace  the  papers,  and 
rising  he  went  to  obey.  As  he  approached  the  closet, 
the  first  beams  of  the  rising  sun  were  shining  upon 
the  door  of  it.  The  window  through  which  they  entered 
was  a  small  one,  and  the  mornings  of  the  year  in  which 
they  so  fell  were  not  many.  When  he  opened  the 
door,  they  shot  straight  to  the  back  of  the  closet,  light- 
ing with  rare  illumination  the  little  place,  commonly  so 
dusky  that  in  it  one  book  could  hardly  be  distinguished 
from  another.  It  was  as  if  a  sudden  angel  had  entered 
a  dungeon.  When  the  door  fell  to  behind  him,  as  was 
its  custom,  the  place  felt  so  dark  that  he  seemed  to 
have  lost  memory  as  well  as.  sight,  and  not  to  know 
where  he  was.  He  set  it  open  again,  and  having 
checked  it  so,  proceeded  to  replace  the  papers.  But 
the  strangeness  of  the  presence  there  of  such  a  light 
took  so  great  a  hold  on  his  imagination,  and  it  was 
such  a  rare  thing  to  see  what  the  musty  dingy  little 

632 


A    SMALL    DISCOVERY.  633 

closet,  which  to  Cosmo  had  always  been  the  treasure- 
chamber  of  the  house,  was  like,  that  he  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment with  his  hand  on  the  cover  of  the  bureau,  gazing 
into  the  light-invaded  corners  as  if  he  had  suddenly 
found  himself  in  a  department  of  Aladdin's  cave.  Old 
to  him  beyond  all  memor)%  it  yet  looked  new  and 
wonderful,  much  that  had  hitherto  been  scarcely 
known  but  to  his  hands  now  suddenly  revealed  in  ra- 
diance to  his  eyes  also.  Amongst  other  facts  he  discov- 
ered that  the  bureau  stood,  not  agairist  a  rough  wall  as 
he  had  imagined,  but  against  a  plain  surface  of  wood. 
In  mild  surprise  he  tapped  it  with  his  knuckles,  and 
almost  started  at  the  hollow  sound  it  returned. 

"  What  can  there  be  ahin'  the  bureau,  father  ?  "  he 
asked,  re-entering  the  room. 

"  I  dinna  ken  o'  onything,"  answered  the  laird. 
"The  desk  stan's  close  again'  the  wa',  does  na't  ?  " 

"  Ay,  but  the  wa'  's  timmer,  an'  soon's  how." 

"  It  may  be  but  a  wainscotin' ;  an'  gien  there  was  but 
an  inch  atween  hit  an'  the  stane,  it  wad  soon'  like  that." 

"  I  wad  like  to  draw  the  desk  oot  a  bit,  an'  hae  a 
nearer  luik.  It  fills  up  a'  the  space,  'at  I  canna  weel 
win  at  it." 

"  Du  as  ye  like,  laddie.  The  hoose  is  mair  yours 
nor  mine.  But  noo  ye  hae  putten't  i'  my  held,  I  min* 
my  mother  sayin'  'at  there  was  ance  a  passage  atween 
the  twa  blocks  o'  the  hoose  :  could  it  be  there  ?  I 
aye  thoucht  it  had  been  atween  the  kitchen  an'  the 
dinin'  room.     My  father,  she  said,  had  it  closed  up." 

Said  Cosmo,  who  had  been  gazing  toward  the 
closet  from  where  he  stood  by  the  bedside, 

"  It  seems  to  gang  farther  back  nor  the  thickness 


634  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

o'  the  wa' !  "  He  went  and  looked  out  of  the  western 
window,  then  turned  again  towards  the  closet.  "  I 
canna  think,"  he  resumed,  with  something  like  annoy- 
ance in  his  tone,  "hoo  it  cud  be  'at  I  never  noticed 
that  afore !  A  body  wad  think  I  had  nae  held  for 
what  I  prided  mysel'  upo'  —  an  un'erstan'in'  o'  hoo 
things  are  putten  thegither,  specially  i'  the  w'y  o' 
stane  an'  lime !  The  closet  rins  richt  intil  the  great 
blin'  wa'  atween  the  twa  hooses  !  I  thoucht  that  wa' 
had  been  naething  but  a  kin'  o'  a  curtain  o'  defence, 
but  there  may  weel  be  a  passage  i'  the  thickness 
o'  't ! " 

So  saying  he  re-entered  the  closet,  and  proceeded  to 
move  the  bureau.  The  task  was  not  an  easy  one. 
The  bureau  was  large,  and  so  nearly  filled  the  breadth 
of  the  closet,  that  he  could  attack  it  nowhere  but  in 
front,  and  had  to  drag  it  forward,  laying  hold  of  it 
where  he  could,  over  a  much-worn  oak  floor.  The 
sun  had  long  deserted  him  before  he  got  behind  it. 

"  I  wad  sair  like  to  brak  throu  the  buirds,  father  ?" 
he  said,  going  again  to  the  laird. 

"  Onything  ye  like,  I  tell  ye,  laddie  !  I'm  growin' 
curious  mysel',"  he  answered. 

"  I'm  feart  for  makin'  ower  muckle  din,  father." 

"  Nae  fear,  nae  fear  !  I  haena  a  sair  heid.  The 
Lord  be  praist,  that's  a  thing  I'm  seldom  triblet  wi'. 
Gang  an'  get  ye  what  tools  ye  want,  an'  gang  at  it, 
an'  dinna  spare.  Gien  the  hole  sud  lat  in  the  win', 
ye'll  mar  nae  mair,  I'm  thinkin',  nor  ye'll  be  able  to 
mak  again.     What  timmer  is  't  o'  ?  " 

"Only  deal,  sae  far  as  I  can  judge." 

Cosmo  went  and  fetched  his  tool-basket,  and  set  to 


A   SMALL    DISCOVERY.  635 

work.  The  partition  was  strong,  of  good  sound  pine, 
neither  rotton  nor  worm-eaten  —  inch-boards  matched 
with  groove  and  tongue,  not  quite  easy  to  break 
through.  But  having,  with  a  centre-bit  and  brace, 
bored  several  holes  near  each  other,  he  knocked  out 
the  pieces  between,  and  introducing  a  saw,  soon  made 
an  opening  large  enough  to  creep  through.  A  cold 
air  met  him.  as  if  from  a  cellar,  and  on  the  other  side 
he  seemed  in  another  climate. 

Feeling  with  his  hands,  for  there  was  scarcely  any 
light,  he  discovered  that  the  space  he  had  entered 
was  not  a  closet,  inasmuch  as  there  was  no  shelf,  ar 
anything  in  it,  whatever.  It  was  certainly  most  like 
the  end  of  a  deserted  passage.  His  feet  told  him  the 
floor  was  of  wood,  and  his  hands  that  the  walls  were 
of  rough  stone  without  plaster,  cold  and  damp.  With 
outstretched  arms  he  could  easily  touch  both  at  once. 
Advancing  thus  a  few  paces,  he  struck  his  head  against 
wood,  felt  panels,  and  concluded  a  door.  There  was 
a  lock,  but  the  handle  was  gone.  He  went  back  a  little, 
and  threw  himself  against  it.  Lock  and  hinges  too 
gave  way,  and  it  fell  right  out  before  him.  He  went 
staggering  on,  and  was  brought  up  by  a  bed,  half-fall- 
ing across  it.  He  was  in  the  spare  room,  the  gruesome 
centre  of  legend,  the  dwelling  of  ghostly  awe.  Not 
yet  apparently  had  its  numen  forsaken  it,  for  through 
him  passed  a  thrill  at  the  discovery.  From  his 
father's  familiar  room  to  this,  was  like  some  marvel- 
lous transition  in  a  fairy-tale;  the  one  was  home,  a 
place  of  use  and  daily  custom ;  the  other  a  hollow  in 
the  far-away  past,  an  ancient  cave  of  Time,  full  of 
withering  history.     Its  windows  being  all  to  the  north 


636  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  long  unopened,  it  was  lustreless,  dark,  and  musty 
with  decay. 

Cosmo  stood  motionless  a  while,  gazing  about  him 
as  if,  from  being  wide  awake,  he  suddenly  found  him- 
self in  a  dream.  Then  he  turned  as  if  to  see  how  he 
had  got  into  it.  There  lay  the  door,  and  there  was 
the  open  passage  !  He  lifted  the  door :  the  other 
side  of  it  was  covered  with  the  same  paper  as  the  wall, 
from  which  it  had  brought  with  it  several  ragged 
pieces.  He  went  back,  crept  through,  and  rejoined 
his  father. 

In  eager  excitement,  he  told  him  the  discovery  he 
had  made. 

"  I  heard  the  noise  of  the  falling  door,"  said  his 
father  quietly.  "I  should  not  wonder  now,"  he 
added,  "  if  we  discovered  a  way  through  to  the  third 
block." 

"  Oh,  father,"  said  Cosmo  with  a  sigh,  "  what  a  com-, 
fort  this  door  would  have  so  often  been !  and  now, 
just  as  we  are  like  to  leave  the  house  forever,  we  first 
discover  it !  " 

"  How  well  we  have  got  on  without  it !  "  returned 
his  father. 

"  But  what  could  have  made  grandfather  close  it 
Tip?" 

"  There  was,  I  believe, .  some  foolish  ghost-story 
connected  with  it  —  perhaps  the  same  old  Grannie 
told  you." 

"  I  wonder  grandmamma  never  spoke  of  it !  " 

"  My  impression  is  she  never  cared  to  refer  to  it.** 

"  I  daresay  she  believed  it." 

"  Weel,  I  daursay  !     I  wadna  won'er ! " 


A    SMALL    DISCOVERY.  637 

"  What  for  did  ye  ca'  't  foolish,  father  ?  " 

"  Jist  for  thouchtlessness,  I  doobt,  But  wha  could 
hae  imagined  to  kep  a  ghaist  by  paperin'  ower  a  door, 
whan,  gien  there  be  ony  trowth  i'  sic  tales,  the  ghaist 
gangs  throu  a  stane  \va'  jist  as  easy  's  open  air  !  But 
surely  o'  a'  fules  a  ghaist  maun  be  the  warst  'a  things 
on  aboot  a  place  !  " 

"  Maybe  it's  to  baud  away  frae  a  waur.  The  queer 
thing,  father,  to  me  wad  be  'at  the  ghist,  frae  bein'  a 
fule  a'  his  life,  sud  grow  a  wise  man  the  minute 
he  was  deid !  Michtna  it  be  a  pairt  o'  his  punishment 
to  be  garred  see  hoo  things  gang  on  efter  he's  deid  ! 
What  could  be  sairer,  for  instance,  upon  a  miser,  nor 
to  see  his  heir  gang  to  the  deevil  by  scatterin'  what 
he  gaed  to  the  deevil  by  gatherin'  ? " 

"  'Deed  ye're  richt  eneuch,  there,  my  son ! "  an- 
swered the  old  man.  Then  after  a  pause  he  resumed. 
"  It's  aye  siller  or  banes  'at  f esses  them  back.  I  can 
weel  un'erstan'  a  great  reluctance  to  tak  their  last 
leave  o'  th  siller,  but  for  the  banes  —  eh,  but  I'll  be 
unco  pleased  to  be  rid  o'  mine  !  " 

"  But  whaur  banes  are  concernt,  hasna  there  aye 
been  fause  play.^  "  suggested  Cosmo. 

"  Wad  it  be  revenge,  than,  think  ye  ? " 

"  It  micht  be  :  maist  o'  the  stories  o'  that  kin'  en' 
\vi'  bringin'  the  murderer  an'  justice  acquant.  But 
the  human  bein'  seems  in  a'  ages  to  hae  a  grit  dislike 
to  the  thoucht  o'  his  banes  bein'  left  lyin'  aboot.  I 
hae  h'ard  gran'mamma  say  the  dirtiest  servan'  was 
aye  clean  twa  days  o'  her  time  —  the  day  she  cam  an' 
the  day  she  gaed." 

"  Ye  hae  thoucht  mair   aboot  it   nor   me,    laddie ! 


638  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

But  what  ye  say  wadna  haud  wi'  the  Parsees,  'at  lay 
oot  their  deid  to  be  devoored  by  the  birds  o'  the 
air." 

"They  swipe  up  their  banes  at  the  last.  An' 
though  the  livin'  expose  the  deid,  the  deid  mayna 
like  it." 

"  I  daursay.  Ony  gait  it  maun  be  a  fine  thing  to 
lea'  as  little  dirt  as  possible  ahin'  ye,  an'  tak  nane  wi' 
ye.     I  wad  frain  gang  clean  an'  lea'  clean  !  " 

"Gien  onybody  gang  clean  an'  lea'  clean,  father^ 
ye  wull.," 

"I  luik  to  the  Lord,  my  son.  —  But  noo,  whan  a 
body  thinks  o'  't,"  he  went  on  after  a  jDause,  "  there 
wad  seem  something  curious  i'  thae  tales  concernin' 
the  auld  captain !  Sometime  we'll  tak  Grizzle  intil 
oor  coonsel,  an'  see  hoo  mony  we  can  gaither,  an' 
what  we  can  mak  o'  them  whan  we  lay  them  a' 
thegither.  Gien  the  Lord  hae't  in  his  min'  to  keep 
's  i'  this  place,  yon  passage  may  turn  oot  a  great 
convanience." 

"  Ye  dinna  think  it  wad  be  worth  while  openin'  't 
up  direc'ly  ? " 

"  I  wad  bide  for  warmer  weather.  I  think  the 
room's  jist  some  caller  now  by  rizzon  o'  't.'* 

"  I'll  close't  up  at  ance,"  said  Cosmo. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  screwed  a  box-lid  over  the 
hole  in  the  partition,  and  shut  the  door  of  the  closet. 

"  Noo,"  he  said,  "  I'll  gang  an'  set  up  the  door  on 
the  ither  side." 

Before  he  went  however,  he  told  his  father  what  he 
had  been  thinking  of,  saying,  if  he  approved  and  was 
well  enough,  he  should  like  to  go  the  next  day. 


A   SMALL   DISCOVERY.  639 

"  It's  no  an  ill  idea,"  said  the  laird ;  "  but  we'll  see 
what  the  morn  may  be  like." 

When  Cosmo  entered  the  great  bedroom  of  the 
house  from  the  other  side,  he  stood  for  a  moment 
staring  at  the  open  passage  and  prostrate  door  as  if 
he  saw  them  for  the  first  time,  then  proceeded  to 
examine  the  hinges.  They  were  broken  ;  the  half  of 
each  remained  fast  to  the  door-post,  the  other  half  to 
the  door.  New  hinges  were  necessary  ;  in  the  mean- 
time he  must  prop  it  up.  This  he  did ;  and  before  he 
left  the  room,  as  it  was  much  in  want  of  fresh  air,  he 
opened  all  the  windows. 

His  father  continuing  better  through  that  day,  he 
went  to  bed  early  that  he  might  start  at  sunrise. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


-A   GREATER   DISCOVERY. 


In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  was  wakened  by  a  loud 
noise.  Its  nature  he  had  been  too  sound  asleep  to 
recognize  ;  he  only  knew  it  had  waked  him.  He 
sprang  out  of  bed,  was  glad  to  find  his  father  undis- 
turbed, and  stood  for  a  few  moments  wondering.  All 
at  once  he  remembered  that  he  had  left  the  windows 
of  the  best  bedroom  open  ;  the  wind  had  risen,  and 
was  now  blowing  what  sailors  would  call  a  gale  : 
probably  something  had  been  blown  down !  He  would 
go  and  see.  Taking  a  scrap  of  candle,  all  he  had,  he 
crept  down  the  stair  and  out  to  the  great  door. 

As  he  approached  that  of  the  room  he  sought,  the 
faint  horror  he  felt  of  it  when  a  boy  suddenly  re- 
turned upon  him  as  fresh  as  ever,  and  for  a  moment 
he  hesitated,  almost  doubting  whether  he  were  not 
dreaming :  was  he  actually  there  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  ^  But  with  an  effort  he  dismissed  the  folly, 
was  himself  again,  entering  the  room,  if  not  with  in- 
difference yet  with  composure.  There  was  just  light 
640 


A    GREATER    DISCOVERY.  641 

enough  to  see  the  curtains  of  the  terrible  bed  waving 
wide  in  the  stream  of  wind  that  followed  the  opening 
of  the  door.  He  shut  the  windows,  lighted  his  candle, 
and  then  saw  the  door  he  had  set  up  so  carefully  flat 
on  the  floor  :  the  chair  he  had  put  against  it  for  a  but- 
tress, he  thought,  had  not  proved  high  enough,  and  it 
had  fallen  down  over  the  top  of  it.  He  placed  his 
candle  beside  it,  and  proceeded  once  more  to  raise  it. 
But,  casting  his  eyes  up  to  mark  the  direction,  he 
caught  a  sight  which  made  him  lay  it  down  again  and 
rise  without  it.  The  candle  on  the  floor  shone  half- 
way into  the  passage,  lighting  up  a  part  of  one  wall 
of  it,  and  showing  plainly  the  rough  gray  stones  of 
which  it  was  built.  Something  in  the  shapes  and 
arrangement  of  the  stones  drew  and  fixed  Cosmo's 
attention.  He  took  the  candle,  examined  the  wall, 
came  from  the  passage  with  his  eyes  shining,  and  his 
lips  firmly  closed,  left  the  room,  and  went  up  a  story 
higher  to  that  over  it,  still  called  his.  There  he  took 
from  his  old  secretary  the  unintelligible  drawing  hid 
in  the  handle  of  the  bamboo,  and  with  beating  heart 
unfolded  it.  Certainly  its  lines  did,  more  or  less, 
correspond  with  the  shapes  of  those  stones !  He  must 
bring  them  face  to  face  ! 

Down  the  stair  he  went  again.  It  was  the  dead  of 
the  night,  but  every  remnant  of  childhood's  awe  was 
gone  in  the  excitement  of  the  hoped  discovery.  He 
stood  once  more  in  the  passage,  the  candle  in  one 
hand,  the  paper  in  the  other,  and  his  eyes  going  and 
coming  steadily  between  it  and  the  wall,  as  if  reading 
the   rough  stones  by   some   hieroglyphic    key.     The 


642  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

lines  on  the  paper  and  the  joints  of  the   stones  cor- 
responded with  almost  absolute  accuracy. 

But  another  thing  had  caught  his  eye — a  thing  yet 
more  promising,  though  he  delayed  examining  it  until 
fully  satisfied  of  the  correspondence  he  sought  to  es- 
tablish :  on  one  of  the  stones,  one  remarkable  neither 
by  position  nor  shape,  he  spied  what  seemed  the 
rude  drawing  of  a  horse,  but  as  it  was  higher  than 
his  head,  and  the  candle  cast  up  shadows  from  the 
rough  surfaces,  he  could  not  see  it  well.  Now  he 
got  a  chair,  and,  standing  on  it,  saw  that  it  was  plainly 
enough  a  horse,  like  one  a  child  might  have  made 
who,  with  a  gift  for  drawing,  had  had  no  instruction. 
It  was  scratched  on  the  stone.  Beneath  it,  legible 
enough  to  one  who  knew  them  so  well,  were  the 
lines — 

catch  your  Nag,  &  pull  his  Tail 
in  his  hind  Hele  caw  a  Nail 
rug  his  Lugs  frae  ane  anither 
stand  up,  &  ca'  the  King  yer  Brither 

How  these  directions  were  to  be  followed  with 
such  a  horse  as  the  one  on  the  flat  before  him  would 
be  scanned  !  Probably  the  wall  must  be  broken  into 
at  that  spot.  In  the  meantime  he  would  set  up  the 
door  again,  and  go  to  bed. 

For  he  was  alarmed  at  the  turmoil  the  sight  of 
these  signs  caused  in  him.  He  dreaded  possession  by 
any  spirit  but  1j;ie  one.  Whatever  he  did  now  he 
must  do  calmly.  Therefore  to  bed  he  went.  But 
before  he  gave  himself  up  to  sleep,  he  prayed  God  to 
watch  him,  lest  the  commotion  in  his  heart  and  the 


A   GREATER    DISCOVERY.  643 

giddiness  of  hope  should  make  something  rise  that 
would  come  between  him  and  the  light  eternal.  The 
man  in  whom  any  earthly  hope  dims  the  heavenly 
presence  and  weakens  the  mastery  of  himself,  is  on 
the  by-way  through  the  meadow  to  the  castle  of  Giant 
Despair. 

In  the  morning  he  rose  early,  and  went  to  see  what 
might  be  attempted  for  the  removing  of  the  stone. 
He  found  it,  as  he  had  feared,  so  close-jointed  with 
its  neighbours  that  none  of  his  tools  would  serve.  He 
went  to  Grizzie  and  got  from  her  a  thin  old  knife ; 
but  the  mortar  had  got  so  hard  since  those  noises  the 
servants  used  to  hear  in  the  old  captain's  room,  that 
he  could  not  make  much  impression  upon  it,  and  the 
job  was  likely  to  be  a  long  one.  He  said  to  himself 
it  might  be  the  breaking  through  of  the  wall  of  his 
father's  prison  and  his  own,  and  wrought  eagerly 

As  soon  as  his  father  had  had  his  breakfast,  he 
told  him  what  he  had  discovered  during  the  dark 
hours.  The  laird  listened  with  the  light  of  a  smile, 
not  the  smile  itself,  upon  his  face,  and  made  no  an- 
swer ;  but  Cosmo  could  see  by  the  all  but  impercep- 
tible motion  of  his  lips  that  he  was  praying. 

"  I  wish  I  were  able  to  help  you,"  he  said  at 
length. 

"There  is  na  room  for  mair  nor  ane  at  a  time, 
father,"  answered  Cosmo;  "an'  I  houp  to  get  the 
stane  oot  afore  I'm  tired.  You  can  be  Moses  pray- 
ing, while  I  am  Joshua  fighting." 

"  An'  prayin'  again'  waur  enemies  nor  ever  Joshua 
warstled  wi',"  returned  his  father;  "for  whan  I  think 
o'  the  rebound  o'  the  spirit,  even  in  this  my  auld  age, 


644  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

that  cudna  but  follow  the  mere  liftin'  o'  the  weicht  o' 
debt,  I  feel  as  gien  my  sowl  wad  be  tum'led  aboot 
like  a  bledder,  an'  its  auld  wings  tak  to  lang  slow 
fllaggin'  strokes  i'  the  ower  thin  aether  o'  joy.  The 
great  God  protec'  's  frae  his  ain  gifts !  Wi'oot  him 
they're  ten  times  waur  nor  ony  wiles  o'  the  deevil's 
ain.     But  I'll  pray,  Cosmo  ;  I'll  pray." 

The  real  might  of  temptation  is  in  the  lower  and 
seemingly  nearer  loveliness  as  against  the  higher  and 
seemingly  farther. 

Cosmo  went  back  to  his  work.  But  he  got  tired  of 
the  old  knife  —  it  was  not  tool  enough,  and  had  to 
fashion  on  the  grindstone  a  screw-driver  to  a  special 
implement.     With  that  he  got  on  better. 

The  stone,  —  whether  by  the  old  captain's  own' 
hands,  his  ghost  best  knew  —  was  both  well  fitted  and 
fixed,  but  after  Cosmo  had  worked  at  it  for  about 
three  hours  his  tool  suddenly  went  through.  It  was 
then  easy  to  knock  away  from  the  edge  gained,  and 
on  the  first  attempt  to  prize  it  out,  it  yielded  so  far 
that  he  got  a  hold  with  his  fingers,  and  the  rest  was 
soon  done.  It  disclosed  a  cavity  in  the  wall,  but  the 
light  was  not  enough  to  let  him  see  into  it,  and  he 
went  to  get  a  candle. 

Now  Grizzle  had  a  curious  dislike  to  any  admission 
of  the  poverty  of  the  house  even  to  those  most  inter- 
ested, and  having  but  one  small  candle-end  left,  was 
unwilling  both  to  yield  it,  and  to  confess  it  her  last. 

"Them  'at  burns  daylicht,  sune  they'll  hae  nae 
licht ! "  she  said.  "  What  wad  ye  want  wi'  a  can'le  ? 
I'll  haud  a  fir-can'le  to  ye,  gien  ye  like." 

"  Grizzle,"  repeated  Cosmo,  "  I  want  a  can'le." 


A    GREATER    DISCOVERY.  645 

She  went  grumbling,  and  brought  him  the  miserable 
end. 

*'  Hoot,  Grizzle  !  "  he  expostulated,  "  dinna  be  sae 
near.     Ye  wadna,  gien  ye  kenned  what  I  was  aboot." 

"  Eh  !  what  are  ye  aboot,  sir  ? " 

"I'm  no  gaein'  to  tell  ye  yet.  Ye  maun  hae 
patience,  an'  I  maun  hae  a  can'le." 

''  Ye  maun  tak  what's  offert  ye." 

"  Grizzle,  I'm  in  earnest." 

"  'Deed  an'  sae  am  I  !  Ye  s'  hae  nae  mair  nor 
that  —  no  gien  it  was  to  scrape  the  girnel  —  an'  that's 
dune  lang  syne,  an'  twlse  ower !  " 

"  Grizzle,  I'm  feart  ye'll  anger  me." 

"  Ye  s'  get  nae  mair !  " 

Cosmo  burst  out  laughing. 

"Grizzle,"  he  said,  "I  dinna  believe  ye  nae  an* 
inch  mair  can'le  1'  the  hoose  !  " 

"  It  needs  na  a  Warlock  to  tell  that !  Gien  I  had  it, 
what  for  sud  na  ye  hae  't  'at  has  the  best  richt  ? " 

Cosmo  took  his  candle,  and  was  as  sparing  of  it 
as  Grizzle  herself  could  have  wished. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


A  GREAT  DISCOVERY. 


The  instant  the  rays  of  the  candle-end  were  thrown 
into  the  cavity,  he  saw  what,  expectant  as  he 
was,  made  him  utter  a  cry.  He  seemed  to  be 
looking  through  a  small  window  into  a  toy-stable 
—  a  large  one  for  a  toy.  Immediately  before  him 
was  a  stall,  in  which  stood  a  horse,  with  his  tail 
towards  the  window.  He  put  in  his  hand  and  felt 
it  over.  For  a  toy  it  would  have  been  of  the  largest 
size  below  a  rocking  horse.  It  was  covered  with 
a  hairy  skin.  So  far  all  was  satisfactory,  but  alas ! 
more  stones  must  be  removed  ere  it  could  be  taken 
from  its  prison  stall,  where,  like  the  horses  of 
Charlemagne,  it  had  been  buried  so  many  years. 
He  extinguished  the  precious  candle-end,  and  set 
to  work  once  more  with  a  will  and  what  light  the 
day  afforded.  Nor  was  the  task  much  easier  than 
before.  Every  one  of  the  stones  was  partly  imbedded 
in  the  solid  of  the  wall,  projecting  but  a  portion 
of  its  bulk  over  the  hollow  of  the  stable.  The 
646 


A    GREAT    DISCOVERY.  647 

old  captain  must  indeed  have  worked  hard !  for 
assuredly  he  was  not  the  man  to  call  for  help  where 
he  desired  secrecy — though  doubtless  it  was  his  sud- 
den death,  and  the  nature  of  it,  which  prevented 
him  from  making  disclosure  concerning  the  matter 
before  he  left  the  world  :  the  rime,  the  drawing, 
the  scratches  on  the  stone,  all  indicated  the  inten- 
tion. Cosmo  took  pleasure  in  thinking  that,  if 
indeed  his  ghost  did  "  walk,"  as  Grannie  and  others 
had  affirmed,  it  must  be  more  from  desire  to  reveal 
where  his  money  was  hid,  than  from  any  gloating  over 
the  imagined  possession  of  it. 

But  it  was  now  dinner-time,  and  he  must  rest,  for 
he  was  tired  as  well  as  hungry  —  and  no  wonder,  the 
work  having  been  so  awkward  as  well  as  continuous ! 
He  locked  the  door  of  the  room,  went  first  to  tell  his 
father  what  he  had  further  found,  and  then  made 
haste  over  his  meal,  for  the  night  was  coming,  and 
there  were  no  candles.  Persistently  he  laboured ;  *'  the 
toil-drops  fell  from  his  brow  like  rain  ;  "  and  at  last 
he  laid  hold  of  the  patient  animal  by  the  hind  legs, 
with  purpose  to  draw  it  gently  from  the  stall.  A  little 
way  it  came,  then  no  farther,  and  he  had  to  light  the 
candle.  Peeping  into  the  stall  he  perceived  a  chain 
stretching  from  its  head  to  where  the  manger  might 
be.  This  he  dared  not  tr>'  to  break,  lest  he  might 
injure  the  mechanism  he  hoped  to  find  in  it.  But 
clearly  the  horse  could  not  have  been  so  fastened  as 
the  stall  then  stood.  The  stall  must  have  been  com- 
pleted after  the  horse  was  thus  secured.  More  than 
ever  he  now  needed  a  candle  —  and  indeed  one  held 
for   him;  but  he   was  not   prepared  either   to  take 


648  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

Grizzie  into  his  confidence,  or  to  hurt  her  by  per- 
f erring  Agnes.  He  therefore  examined  the  two  stones 
forming  the  sides  of  the  stall,  and  led  by  the  appear- 
ance of  one  of  them,  proceeded  to  attempt  its  removal 
almost  in  the  dark,  compelled  indeed  now  and  then 
to  feel  for  the  proper  spot  where  to  set  his  tool  before 
he  struck  it.  For  some  time  he  seemed  to  make  little 
or  no  progress ;  but  who  would  be  discouraged  with 
the  end  in  sight ! 

The  stone  at  length  moved,  and  in  a  minute  he  had 
it  out.  For  the  last  time  he  lighted  his  candle,  and 
there  was  just  enough  of  it  left  to  show  him  how  the 
chain  was  fastened.  With  a  pair  of  pincers  he  de- 
tached it  from  the  wall  —  and  I  may  mention  that  his 
life  after  he  wore  it  at  his  watch. 

And  now  he  had  the  horse  in  his  arms  and  would 
have  borne  it  straight  to  his  father,  in  whose  presence 
it  must  be  searched,  but  that,  unwilling  to  carry  it 
through  the  kitchen,  he  must  first  go  to  the  other  end 
of  the  passage  and  open  that  way. 

The  laird  was  seated  by  the  fire  when  Cosmo  went 
, through,  and  returning  with  the  horse,  placed  it  on  a 
chair  beside  him.  They  looked  it  all  over,  wondering 
whether  the  old  captain  could  have  made  it  himself, 
and  Cosmo  thought  his  father  prolonged  the  inquiry 
from  a  wish  to  still  his  son's  impatience.  But  at 
length  he  said, 

"  Noo,  Cosmo,  i'  the  name  o'  God,  the  giver  o'  ilka 
guid  an'  perfec'  gift,  see  gien  ye  can  win  at  the  entrails 
o'  the  animal.  It  cannabe  fu'  o'  men  like  the  Trojan 
horse,  or  they  maun  be  enchantit  sma',  like  the  deevils 
whan  they  war  ower  mony  for  the  cooncil  ha' ;  but 


A    GREAT    DISCOVERY.  649 

what's  intil  't  may  carry  a  heap  waur  danger  to  you 
an'  menorony  nummero'  ainnit  men!" 

"  Ye  min'  the  rime,  father  ?  "  asked  Cosmo. 

"  No  sae  weel  as  the  twenty-third  psahn,"  replied 
the  laird  with  a  smile. 

''  Weel,  the  first  line  o'  't  is,  '  Catch  yer  naig,  an* 
pu'  his  tail.'  Wi'  muckle  diffeeclety  we  hae  catcht 
him,  an'  noo  for  the  tail  o'  'im  !  — There  !  that's  dune! 
—  though  there's  no  muckle  to  shaw  for  't.  The  neist 
direction  is  —  'In  his  hin'  heel  caw  a  nail : '  we  s' 
turn  up  a'  his  fower  feet  thegither,  'cause  they're  co- 
operant ;  an'  noo  lat  's  see  the  proper  spot  whaur  to 
caw  the  said  nail !  " 

The  horse's  shoes  were  large,  and  the  hole  where 
a  nail  was  missing  had  not  to  be  sought.  Cosmo  took 
a  fine  bradawl,  and  pushed  it  gently  into  the  hoof.  A 
loud,  whirring  noise  followed,  but  with  no  visible/esult. 

"  The  next  direction,"  said  Cosmo,  "is  —  '  Rug  his 
lugs  frae  ane  anither.'  Noo,  father,  God  be  wi'  's ! 
an'  gien  it  please  him  we  be  dis-ap'intit,  may  he  gie  's 
grace  to  beir  't  as  he  wad  hae  's  beir  't.' 

"  I  pray  the  same,"  said  the  laird. 

Cosmo  pulled  the  two  ears  of  the  animal  in  oppo- 
site directions.  The  back  began  to  open,  slowly,  as 
if  through  the  long  years  the  cleft  had  begun  to  grow 
together.  He  sprang  from  his  seat.  The  laird  looked 
after  him  with  a  gentle  surprise.  But  it  was  not  to 
rush  from  the  room,  nor  yet  to  perform  a  frantic 
dance  with  the  horse  for  a  partner. 

One  of  the  windows  looked  westward  into  the  court, 
and  at  this  season  of  the  year,  the  setting  sun  looked 
in  at  that  window.     He  was  looking  in  now ;  his  rays 


650         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

made  a  glowing  pool  of  light  in  the  middle  of  the 
ancient  carpet.  Beside  this  pool  Cosmo  dropped  on 
the  floor  like  a  child  with  his  toy,  and  pulled  lustily 
at  its  ears.  All  at  once  into  the  pool  of  light  began 
to  tumble  a  cataract  as  of  shattered  rainbows,  only 
brighter,  flashing  all  the  colours  visible  to  human  eye. 
It  ceased.  Cosmo  turned  the  horse  upside  down, 
and  a  few  stray  drops  followed.  He  shook  it,  and 
tapped  it,  like  Grizzle  when  she  emptied  the  basin  of 
meal  into  the  porridge-pot,  then  flung  it  from  him. 
But  the  cataract  had  not  vanished.  There  it  lay 
heaped  and  spread,  a  storm  of  conflicting  yet  harmo- 
nious hues,  with  a  foamy  spray  of  spiky  flashes,  and 
spots  that  ate  into  the  eyes  with  their  fierce  colour. 
In  every  direction  shot  the  rays  from  it,  blinding;  for 
it  was  a  mound  of  stones  of  all  the  shapes  into  which 
diamonds  are  fashioned.  It  makes  my  heart  beat 
but  to  imagine  the  glorious  show  of  deep-hued  burn- 
ing, flashing,  stinging  light !  The  heaviest  of  its  hues 
was  borne  light  as  those  of  a  foam-bubble  on  the 
strength  of  its  triumphing  radiance.  There  pulsed 
the  mystic  glowing  red,  heart  and  lord  of  colour ;  there 
the  jubilant  yellow,  light-glorified  to  ethereal  gold ; 
there  the  loveliest  blue,  the  truth  unfathomable,  pro- 
founder  yet  than  the  human  red ;  there  the  green, 
that  haunts  the  brain  with  Nature's  soundless  secrets ! 
all  together  striving,  yet  atoning,  fighting  and  fleeing 
and  following,  parting  and  blending,  with  illimitable 
play  of  infinite  force  and  endlessly  delicate  gradation. 
Scattered  here  and  there  were  a  few  of  all  the 
coloured  gems —  sapphires,  emeralds,  and  rubies ;  but 
they  were  scarce  of  note  in  the  mass  of  ever  new-born. 


A   GREAT   DISCOVERY.  651 

ever  dying  colour  that  gushed  from  the  fountains  of 
the  light-dividing  diamonds. 

Cosmo  rose,  left  the  glory  where  it  lay,  and  return- 
ing to  his  father,  sat  down   beside  him.     For  a  few 
moments  they  regarded  in  silence  the  shining  mound, 
where,  like  an  altar  of  sacrifice,  it  smoked  with  light 
and  colour.     The  eyes  of  the  old  man  as  he  looked 
seemed  at  once  to  sparkle  with  pleasure,  and  quail 
with  some  kind  of  fear.    He  turned  to  Cosmo  and  said, 
"  Cosmo,  are  they  what  they  luik  .?  " 
"  What  luik  they,  father  ?  "  asked  Cosmo. 
"  Bonny  bits  o'  glaiss  they  luik,"  answered  the  old 
man.     "  But,"  he  went  on,  "  I  canna  but  believe  them 
something  better,  they  come  til's  in  sic  a  time  o'  sair 
need.     But,  be  they  this  or  be  they  that,  the  Lord's 
wull  be  done  —  noo  an'  for  ever,  be  it,  I  say,  what  it 
like!" 

"  I  wuss  it,  father  ! "  rejoined  Cosmo.  "  But  I 
ken  something  aboot  sic-like  things,  frae  bein'  sae 
muckle  in  Mr.  Burns's  shop,  an'  hauding  a  heap  o' 
conference  wi'  im  about  them  ;  an'  I  tell  ye,  sir, 
they're  maistly  a'  di'mon's ;  an'  the  nummer  o' 
thoosan'  poun'  they  maun  be  worth  gien  they  be  worth 
a  saxpence,  I  daurna  guess  !  " 

"  They'll  be  eneuch  to  pey  oor  debts  ony  gait, 
ye  think,  Cosmo  ? " 

"Ay,  that  wull  they  —  an'  mony  a  hun'er  times 
ower.  They're  maistly  a  guid  size,  an'  no  a  feow 
o'  them  lairge." 

"  Cosmo,  we're  ower  lang  ohn  thankit.  Come 
here,  my  son  ;  gang  down  upo'  yer  knees,  an  lat's 
say  to  the  Lord  what  we're  thinkin'." 


652  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

Cosmo  obeyed,  and  knelt  at  his  father's  knee, 
and  his  father  laid  his  hand  upon  his  head  that  so 
they  might  pray  more  in  one. 

"  Lord,"  he  said,    "though  naething   a    man    can 
tak  in  his   han's   can   ever  be    his   ain,   no  bein'  o* 
his  nature,  that  is,  made  i'  thy  image,  yet,  O   Lord, 
the  thing   'at's   thine,  made   by  thee  efter  thy  holy 
wull  an'  pleesur,  man  may  touch  an'  no  be  defiled. 
Yea,  he  may    tak  pleesur  baith   in   itsel'   an'   in   its 
use,  sae  lang  as  he  han'les  't  i'  the  how  o'  thy  han', 
no   grippin'    at   it    an'   ca'in'  't    his    ain,   an'    lik    a 
rouch   bairn    seekin'    to    snap    it    awa'    'at   he    may 
hae  his  fule  wull  o'  't     O  God,  they're  bonny  stanes 
an'   fu'    o'    licht :    forbid    'at  their   licht   sud   breed 
darkness  i'    the    hert   o'   Cosmo    an'    me.     O    God, 
raither  nor  we  sud  du  or  feel  ae  thing  i'  consequence 
o'    this    they  gift,   that   thoo    wadna   hae  us   do  or 
feel,  we  wad  hae  thee  tak  again  the  gift ;  an'  gien 
i'  thy  mercy,  for  it's  a'  mercy  wi'  thee,  it  sud  turn 
cot,   efter  a',   'at  they're   no  stanes  o'  thy  makin', 
but   coonterfeit   o'    glaiss,    the    produc'    o'    airt   an' 
man's  device,  we'll  lay   them  a'  thegither,  an'  keep 
them   safe,  an'  luik  upon   them   as  a  token  o'  what 
thoo  wad  hae  dune   for  's  gien    it  hadna  been  'at 
we   warna   yet    to   be    trustit   wi'    sae    muckle,    an' 
that  for  the  safety  an'  clean-throuness  o'  oor  sowls. 
O    God,   latna    the    sunshiny    Mammon    creep  intil 
my   Cosmo's  hert  an'  mak  a'  mirk;  latna  the  licht 
that    is    in     him    turn     to    darkness.         God    hae 
mercy  on  his  wee  bairns,  an'  no  lat   the  play  ocks 
he  gies  them  tak  their  e'en  aff  o'  the  giein'  han' ! 
May  the  licht  noo  streamin'  frae  the  hert  o'  the  bonny 


A   GREAT   DISCOVERY.  653 

stanes  be  the  bodily  presence  o'  thy  speerit, 
as  ance  was  the  doo  'at  descendit  upo'  the  maister, 
an'  the  buss  'at  burned  wi'  fire  an'  wasna  con- 
sumed. Thoo  art  the  father  o*  lichts,  an'  a'  licht 
is  thine.  Garoor  herts  burn  like  them  —  a'  licht  an' 
nae  reek  !  An'  gien  ony  o'  them  cam  in  at  a  wrang 
door,  may  they  a'  gang  oot  at  a  richt  ane.  Thy 
wull  be  dune,  which  is  the  purifyin'  fire  o'  a'  thing, 
an'  a'  sow! !     Amen." 

He  ceased,  and  was  silent,  praying  still.  Nor  did 
Cosmo  yet  rise  from  his  knees  :  the  joy,  and  yet  more 
the  relief  at  his  heart  filled  him  afresh  with  fear,  lest, 
no  longer  spurred  by  the  same  sense  of  need,  he 
should  the  less  run  after  him  from  whom  help  had 
come  so  plentifully.  Alas  !  how  is  it  with  our  hearts 
that  in  trouble  they  cr}'',  and  in  joy  forget !  that  we 
think  it  hard  of  God  not  to  hear,  and  when  he  has 
answered  abundantly,  turn  away  as  if  we  wanted 
him  no  more  ! 

When  Cosmo  rose  from  his  knees,  he  looked  his 
father  in  the  face  with  wet  eyes. 

"  Oh,  father  ! "  he  said,  "how  the  fear  and  oppres- 
sion of  ages  are  gone  like  a  cloud  swallowed  up  of 
space.  Oh,  father!  are  not  all  human  ills  doomed 
thus  to  vanish  at  last  in  the  eternal  fire  of  the  love- 
burning  God  ?  —  An'  noo,  father,  what  '11  we  du 
neist?"  resumed  Cosmo  after  a  pause,  turning  his 
eyes  again  on  the  heap  of  jewels.  The  sunrays  had 
now  left  them,  and  they  lay  cold  and  almost  colour- 
less, though  bright  still :  even  in  the  dark  some  of 
them  would  shine !  "  It  pleases  me,  father,"  he  went 
on,  "  to  see  nane  o'  them  set.     It  pnivs  naething,  but 


654  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

maks  't  jist  a  wheen  mair  likly  he  got  them  first  han' 
like.  Eh,  the  queer  things  !  sae  hard,  an'  yet  'maist 
bodiless  !  naething  but  skinfu's  o'  licht!  " 

"  Hooever  they  war  gotten,"  rejoined  the  laird, 
there  can  be  no  question  but  the  only  w'y  o'  cleansin' 
them  is  to  put  them  to  the  best  use  we  possibly  can." 

"  An*  what  wad  ye  ca'  the  best  use,  father?  " 

"  Whatever  maks  o'  a  man  a  neebour.  A  true  life 
efter  God's  notion  is  the  sairest  bash  to  Sawtan.  To 
gie  yer  siller  to  ither  fowk  to  spread  is  to  jink  the 
wark  laid  oot  for  ye.  I'  the  meantime  hadna  ye 
better  beery  yer  deid  again  .''  They  maun  lie  i'  the 
dark,  like  human  sowls,  till  they're  broucht  to  du  the 
deeds  o'  licht." 

"  Dinna  ye  think,"  said  Cosmo,  "  I  micht  set  oot  the 
morn  efter  a',  though  on  a  different  eeran',  an'  gang 
straucht  to  Mr.  Burns?  He'll  sune  put  's  i'  the  w'y 
to  turn  them  til  accoont.  They're  o'  sma'  avail  as 
they  lie  there." 

"  Ye  canna  du  better,  my  son,"  answered  the  old 
man. 

So  Cosmo  gathered  the  gems  together  into  the 
horse,  lifting  them  in  handfuls.  But,  peeping  first 
into  the  hollow  of  the  animal,  to  make  sure  he  had 
found  all  that  was  in  it,  he  caught  sight  of  a  bit  of 
paper  that  had  got  stuck,  and  found  it  a  Bank  of  Eng- 
land note  for  five  hundred  pounds.  This  in  itself 
would  have  been  riches  an  hour  ago  —  now  it  was 
only  a  convenience. 

"  It's  queer  to  think,"  said  Cosmo,  "  'at  though 
we  hae  a'  this  siller,  I  maun  tramp  it  the  morn  like 
ony  caird.     Wha  is  there  in  Muir  o'  Warlock  could 


,     A   GREAT   DISCOVERY.  655 

change  't,  an'  wha  wad  I  gang  til  wi'  't  gien  he  could  ? " 

His  father  replied  with  a  smile, 

"  It  brings  to  my  min'  the  words  o'  the  apostle  — 
*  Noo  I  say,  that  the  heir,  sae  lang  as  he's  but  a  bairn, 
differeth  naething  frae  a  servan',  though  he  be  lord  o' 
a'.'  Eh,  Cosmo,  but  the  word  admits  o'  curious  illus- 
tration ! " 

Cosmo  set  the  horse,  as  soon  as  he  had  done  giv- 
ing him  his  supper  of  diamonds,  again  in  his  old  stall, 
and  replaced  the  stones  that  had  shut  him  in  as  well 
as  he  could.  Then  he  wedged  up  the  door,  and  hav- 
ing nothing  to  make  paste,  glued  the  paper  again  to 
the  wall  which  it  had  carried  with  it.  He  next  sought 
the  kitchen  and  Grizzie. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 


MR.    BURNS. 


"Grizzie,"  he  said,  "I'm  gaein'  a  lang  tramp  the 
morn,  an'  I'll  need  a  great  poochfu'  o'  cakes." 

"  Eh,  sirs  !  An'  what's  takin'  ye  frae  hame  this 
time,  sir  ?  "  returned  Grizzie. 

"  I'm  no  gaein'  to  tell  ye  the  nicht,  Grizzie.  It's 
my  turn  to  hae  a  secret  noo !  But  ye  ken  weel  it's 
lang  sin'  there's  been  onything  to  be  gotten  by  bidia* 
at  hame." 

"  Eh,  but,  sir !  ye're  never  gaein'  to  lea'  the  laird ! 
Bide  an'  dee  wi'  him,  sir." 

"  God  bless  ye,  Grizzie !     Hae  ye  ony  baubees  ?  " 

"Ay;  what  for  no!  I  hae  sax  shillin's,  fower  pen- 
nies, an'  a  baubee  fardin' !  "  answered  Grizzie,  in  the 
tone  of  a  millionaire. 

"  Weel,  ye  maun  jist  len'  me  half  a  croon  o'  "t." 

"  Half  a  croon  !  "  echoed  Grizzie,  staggered  at  the 
largeness  of  the  demand.  *  Haith,  sir,  ye're  no  blate 
{bashful)  ! " 

"  I  dinna  think  it's  ower  muckle,"  said  Cosmo, 
656 


MR.    BURNS.  657 


"  seein'  I  hae  to  tramp  five  an'  thirty  mile  the  morn. 
But  bake  ye  plenty  o'  breid,  an'  that'll  haud  doon  the 
expence.  Only,  gien  he  can  help  it,  a  body  sudna  be 
wantin'  a  baubee  in  's  pooch.  Gien  ye  had  nane  to 
gie  me,  I  wad  set  oot  bare.  But  jist  as  ye  like,  Griz- 
zle !  I  cud  beg  to  be  sure  —  noo  ye  hae  shawn  the 
gait,"  he  added,  taking  the  old  woman  by  the  arm 
with  a  laugh,  that  she  might  not  be  hurt,  "  but  whan 
ye  ken  ye  sudna  speir,  an'  whan  ye  hae,  ye  hae  no 
richt  to  beg." 

"  Weel,  I'll  gie  ye  auchteen  pence,  an'  considerin' 
a'  'at  's  to  be  dune  wi'  what's  left,  ye'll  hae  to  grant 
it  's  no  an  oonfair  portion." 

"  Weel,  weel,  Grizzle !  I'm  thinkin'  I'll  hae  to  be 
content." 

"  '  Deed,  an'  ye  wull,  sir  !     Ye  s'  hae  nae  mair." 

That  night  the  old  laird  slept  soundly,  but  Cosmo, 
ever  on  the  brink  of  unconsciousness,  was  blown  back 
by  a  fresh  gust  of  gladness.  The  morning  came 
golden  and  brave,  and  his  father  was  well  enough  to 
admit  of  his  leaving  him.  So  he  set  out,  and  in  the 
strength  of  his  relief  walked  all  the  way  without 
spending  a  half-penny  of  Grizzle's  eighteen  pence  ; 
two  days  before,  he  would  consult  his  friend  how  to 
avoid  the  bitterest  dregs  of  poverty ;  now  he  must  find 
from  him  how  to  make  his  riches  best  avail- 
able ! 

He  did  not  tell  Mr,  Burns,  ho\yever,  what  his  final 
object  was  —  only  begged  him,  for  the  sake  of  friend- 
ship and  old  times,  to  go  with  him  for  a  day  or  two 
to  his  father's. 

"  But,  Mr.  Warlock,"  objected  the  jeweller,   "  that 


658  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

would  be  taking  the  play,  and  we've  got  to  be  diligent 
in  business." 

"  The  thing  I  want  you  for  is  business,"  replied 
Cosmo. 

"  But  what's  to  be  done  with  the  shop  ?  I  have  no 
assistant  I  can  trust." 

"  Then  shut  it  up,  and  give  your  men  a  holiday. 
You  can  put  up  a  notice  informing  the  great  public 
when  you  will  be  back." 

"  Such  a  thing  was  never  heard  of !  " 

"  It  is  quite  time  it  should  be  heard  of  then.  Why, 
sir,  your  business  is  not  like  a  doctor's,  or  even  a 
baker's.     People  can  live  without  diamonds  !  " 

"  Don't  speak  disrespectfully  of  diamonds,  Mr. 
Warlock.  If  you  knew  them  as  I  do,  you  would 
know  they  had  a  thing  or  two  to  say." 

"  Speak  of  them  disrespectfully  you  never  heard 
me,  Mr.  Burns." 

"  Never,  I  confess.  I  was  only  talking  from  the 
diamond  side.  Like  all  things  else,  they  give  us  ac- 
cording to  what  we  have.  To  him  that  hath  shall  be 
given.  The  fine  lady  may  see  in  her  fine  diamonds 
only  victory  over  a  rival ;  the  philosopher  may  read  em- 
bodied in  them  law  inexorably  beautiful;  and  the  Chris- 
tian poet  —  oh,  I  have  read  my  Spenser,  Mr.  Warlock  ! 
— will  choose  the  diamond  for  its  many  qualities,  as  the 
best  and  only  substance  wherein  to  represent  the 
shield  of  the  faith  that  overcometh  the  world.  Like 
the  gospel  itself,  diamonds  are  a  savour  of  life  unto 
life,  or  a  savour  of  death  unto  death,  according  to  the 
character  of  them  that  look  on  them." 

"  That  is  true  enough.     Every  gift  of  God  is  good 


MR.    BURNS.  659 


that  is  received  with  faith  and  thanksgiving,  and  what- 
soever is  not  of  faith  is  sin.      But  will  you  come  ? " 

Mr.  Burns  did  at  length  actually  consent  to  close 
his  shop  for  three  days,  and  go  with  Cosmo. 

"  It  will  not  be  a  bad  beginning,"  he  said,  as  if  in 
justification  of  himself  to  himself,  "  towards  retiring 
from  business  altogether  —  which  I  might  have  done 
long  ago,"  he  added,  "  but  for  you,  sir !  " 

"  It  is  very  well  for  me  you  did  not,"  rejoined 
Cosmo,  but  declined  to  explain.  This  piqued  Mr. 
Burns's  curiosity,  and  he  set  about  his  preparations 
at  once.. 

In  the  mean  time  things  went  well  at  Castle  War- 
lock, with  —  shall  I  say  ?  —  one  exception  :  Grizzie 
had  a  severe  fit  of  repentance,  mourning  bitterly  that 
she  had  sent  away  the  youth  she  worshipped  with  only 
eighteen  pence  in  his  pocket. 

"He's  sure  to  come  to  grief  for  the  want  o'  jist  that 
ae  shillin'  mair  !"  she  said  over  and  over  to  herself; 
"  an'  it'll  be  a'  an'  only  my  wite  !  What  gien  we 
never  see  'im  again !  Eh,  sirs  !  it's  a  terrible  thing  to 
be  made  sae  contrairy!  What'll  come  o'  me  in  the 
neist  warl',  it  wad  be  hard  for  onybody  to  say !  " 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  however,  while 
she  was  "  washing  up  "  in  the  gloomiest  frame  of 
mind,  in  walked  Cosmo,  and  a  gentleman  after  him. 

"  Hoo's  my  father,  Grizzie  ?"  asked  Cosmo. 

"  Won'erfu'  weel,  sir,"  answered  Grizzie,  with  a 
little  more  show  of  respect  than  usual. 

"This  is  Grizzie,  Mr.  Burns,"  said  Cosmo.  "I 
have  told  you  about  Grizzie  that  takes  care  of  us  all !  " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Grizzie  ?  "  said  Mr.  Burns,  and 


66o         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

shook  hands  with  her.     "  I  am  glad  to  make  your 
acquaintance." 

"Here,  Grizzie!"  said  Cosmo;  "here's  the  auch- 
teen  pence  ye  gae  me  for  expences  :  say  ye're  pleased 
I  haena  waured  it.  —  Jist  a  word  wi'  ye,  Grizzie  ! 
—  Luik  here  —  only  dinna  tell ! " 

He  had  drawn  her  aside  to  the  corner  where  stood 
the  meal-chest,  and  now  showed  her  a  bunch  of  bank- 
notes. So  many  she  had  never  seen — not  to  say  in  a 
bunch,  but  scattered  over  all  her  life  !  He  took  from 
the  bunch  ten  pounds  and  gave  her. 

"Mr.  Burns,"  he  said  aloud,  "will  be  staying  over 
to-morrow,  I  hope." 

GnzziQ  glowered  at  the  money  as  if  such  a  sum  could 
not  be  canny,  but  the  next  moment,  like  one  suddenly 
raised  to  dignity  and  power,  she  began  to  order  Aggie 
about  as  if  she  were  her  mistress,  and  an  imperious 
one.  Within  ten  minutes  she  had  her  bonnet  on,  and 
was  setting  out  for  Muir  o'  Warlock  to  make  pur- 
chases. 

But  oh  the  pride  and  victory  that  rose  and  towered 
and  sank  weary,  only  to  rise  and  tower  again  in 
Grizzle's  mind,  as  she  walked  to  the  village  with  all 
that  money  in  her  pocket !  The  dignity  of  the  house 
of  Warlock  had  rushed  aloft  like  a  sudden  tidal  wave, 
and  on  its  very  crest  Grizzie  was  borne  triumphing 
heavenwards.  From  one  who  begged  at  strange  doors 
for  the  daily  bread  of  a  decayed  family,  all  at  once  she 
was  the  housekeeper  of  the  most  ancient  and  honour- 
able castle  in  all  Scotland,  steering  the  great  ship  of 
its  fortunes !  With  a  reserve  and  a  dignity  as  im- 
pressive as  provoking  to  the  gossips  of  the  village, 


MR.    BURNS.  66 1 


from  one  shop  to  another  she  went,  buying  carefully 
but  freely,  rousing  endless  curiosity  by  her  look  of 
mystery,  and  her  evident  consciousness  of  infinite 
resource.  But  when  at  last  she  went  to  the  Warlock 
Arms,  and  bought  a  half  dozen  of  port  at  the  incredi- 
ble price  of  six  shillings  a  bottle,  there  was  not  a 
doubt  left  in  the  Muir  that  "  the  auld  laird  "  had  at  last 
and  somehow  come  in  for  a  great  fortune.  Grizzle 
returned  laden  herself,  and  driving  before  her  two 
boys  carrying  a  large  basket  between  them.  Now  she 
was  equal  to  the  proper  entertainment  of  the  visitor, 
for  whom,  while  she  was  away,  Aggie,  obedient  to  her 
orders,  was  preparing  the  state  bedroom — thinking 
all  the  time  of  that  night  long  ago  when  she  and  Cosmo 
got  it  ready  for  Lord  Mergwain. 

Cosmo  and  Mr.  Burns  found  the  laird  seated 
by  the  fire  in  his  room ;  and  there  Cosmo  recounted 
the  whole  stor}'  of  the  finding  of  the  gems,  begin- 
ning far  back  with  the  tales  concerning  the  old 
captain,  as  they  had  come  to  his  knowledge,  just 
touching  on  the  acquisition  of  the  bamboo,  and 
the  discover)^  of  its  contents,  and  so  descending 
to  the  revelations  of  the  previous  two  days.  But 
all  the  time  he  never  gave  the  jeweller  a  hint  of 
what  was  coming.  In  relating  the  nearer  events, 
he  led  him  from  place  to  place,  acting  his  part  in 
them,  and  forestalling  nothing,  never  once  mentioning 
stone  or  gem,  then  suddenly  poured  out  the  diamonds 
on  the  rug  in  the  firelight. 

Leaving  the  result  to  the  imagination  of  my 
reader,  I  will  now  tell  him  a  thing  that  took  place 
while  Cosmo  was  away. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

TOO  SURE  COMES  TOO  LATE. 

The  same  day  Cosmo  left,  Lord  Lick-my-loof 
sent  to  the  castle  the  message  that  he  wanted  to  see 
young  Mr.  Warlock.  The  laird  returned  the  answer 
that  Cosmo  was  from  home,  and  would  not  be  back 
till  the  day  following. 

In  the  afternoon  came  his  lordship,  desiring  an  in- 
terview with  the  laird ;  which,  not  a  little  against  his 
liking,  the  laird  granted. 

"  Set  ye  doon,  my  lord,"  said  Grizzle,  "  an'  rist  yer 
shins.  The  ro'd  atween  this  an'  the  ludge,  maun  be 
slithery." 

His  lordship  yielded  and  took  the  chair  she  offered, 
for  he  would  rather  propitiate  than  annoy  her,  seeing 
he  was  more  afraid  of  Grizzle  than  aught  in  creation 
except  dogs.  And  Grizzle,  appreciating  his  be- 
haviour, had  compassion  upon  him  and  spared  him. 

"  His  lairdship,"  she  said,  "  maunna  be  hurried 
puttin'  on  his  dressin^-goon.  He's  no  used  to  see 
onybody  sae  ear'.     I  s'  gang  an'  see  gien  I  can  help 

662 


TOO  SURE  COMES  TOO  LATE.         663 

him  ;  he  never  wad  hae  a  man  aboot  'im  'cep'  the 
yoong  laird  himsel'." 

Relieved  by  her  departure,  his  lordship  began  to 
look  about  the  kitchen,  and  seeing  Aggie,  asked  after 
her  father.     She  replied  that  he  was  but  poorly. 

"  Getting  old  !  " 

"  Surely,  my  lord.     He's  makin'  ready  to  gang." 

"Poor  old  man! " 

"  What  wad  yer  lordship  hae  ?  Ye  wadna  gang  on 
i'  this  warl'  for  ever  ?  " 

"  'Deed  and  I  would  have  no  objection  —  so  long 
as  there  were  pretty  girls  like  you  in  it." 

"  Suppose  the  lasses  had  a  ch'ice  tu,  my  lord  ?  '* 

"  What  would  they  do  ?  " 

"  Gang,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"  What  makes  you  so  spiteful,  Aggie  ?  I  never  did 
you  any  harm  that  I  know  of." 

"  Ye  ken  the  story  o'  the  guid  Samaritan,  my  lord  ? " 
said  Aggie. 

"  I  read  my  bible,  I  hope." 

"  Weel,  I'll  tell  ye  a  bit  mair  o'  't  nor  ye'll  get  there. 
The  Levite  an'  the  Pharisee  —  naebody  ever  said  yer 
lordship  was  like  aither  o'  them  —  " 

"  No,  thank  God  !  nobody  could." 

" — they  gaed  by  o'  the  ither  side,  an'  loot  him 
lie.  But  there  was  ane  cam  up,  an'  tuik  'im  by  the 
legs,  'cause  he  lay  upo'  his  Ian',  an' wad  hae  pu'dhim 
aff.  But  jist  i'  the  nick  o'  time  by  cam  the  guid 
Samaritan,  an'  set  him  rinnin'.  Sae  it  was  sune  a 
sma'  maitter  to  onybody  but  the  ill  neebour,  wha 
couldna  weel  gang  straucht  to  Paradise.  Abraham 
wad  hae  a  fine  time  o'  't  wi'  sic  a  bairn  in  's  bosom  ! " 


664  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Damn  the  women  !  Young  and  old  they're  too 
many  for  me  !  "  said  his  lordship  to  himself,  —  and 
just  then  Grizzie  returning  invited  him  to  walk  up  to 
the  laird's  room,  where  he  made  haste  to  set  forth 
the  object  of  his  visit. 

"  I  said  to  your  son,  Glenwarlock,  when  he  came 
to  me  the  other  morning,  that  I  would  not  buy." 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  I  have  however,  lawyer  though  I  be,  changed  my 
mind,  and  am  come  to  renew  my  offer." 

"  In  the  meantime,  however,  we  have  changed  our 
minds,  my  lord,  and  will  not  sell." 

"  That's  very  foolish  of  you." 

"  It  may  seem  so,  my  lord ;  but  you  must  allow  us 
to  do  the  best  with  what  modicum"  of  judgment  we 
possess." 

"What  can  have  induced  you  to  come  to  such  a  fatal 
resolution !  I  am  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
value  of  the  land  all  about  here,  and  am  convinced 
you  will  not  get  such  a  price  from  another,  be  he  who 
he  may." 

"  You  may  be  right,  my  lord,  but  we  do  not  want 
to  sell." 

"Nobody,  I  repeat,  will  make  you  a  better  —  I 
mean  an  equal  offer." 

"  I  could  well  believe  it  might  not  be  worth  more 
to  anyone  else  —  so  long,  that  is,  as  your  lordship's 
property  shuts  it  in  on  every  side  ;  but  to  your  lord- 
ship —  " 

"  That  is  my  affair ;  what  it  is  worth  to  you  is  the 
question. 

"  It  is  worth  more  to  us  than  you  can  calculate." 


TOO  SURE  COMES  TOO  LATE.  665 

"  I  daresay,  where  sentiment  sends  prices  up  !  But 
that  is  not  in  the  market.  Take  my  advice  and 
a  good  offer.  You  can't  go  on  like  this,  you  know. 
You  will  lose  your  position  entirely.  Why,  what  are 
you  thinking  of !  " 

"  I  am  thinking,  my  lord,  that  you  have  scarcely- 
been  such  a  neighbour  as  to  induce  us  to  confide  our 

plans  to  you.     I  have  said  we  will  not  sell and 

as  I  am  something  of  an  invalid " 

Lord  Lick-my-loof  rose,  feeling  fooled — and  art- 
noyed  with  himself  and  everybody  in  "the  cursed 
place." 

"Good  morning,  Glenwarlock,"  he  said.  "You 
will  live  to  repent  this  morning." 

"  I  hope  not,  my  lord.  I  have  lived  nearly  long 
enough.     Good  morning !  " 

His  lordship  went  softly  down  the  stair,  hurried 
through  the  kitchen,  and  walked  slowly  home,  think- 
ing whether  it  might  not  be  worth  his  while  to  buy 
up  Glenwarlock's  few  remaining  debts. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

A   LITTLE    LIFE   WELL    ROUNDED. 

"Pirate  or  not,  the  old  gentleman  was  a  good 
judge  of  diamonds !  "  said  Mr.  Burns,  laying  down 
one  of  the  largest.  "  Not  an  inferior  one  in  all  I 
have  gone  over !  Your  uncle  was  a  knowing  man, 
sir :  diamonds  are  worth  much  more  now  than  when 
he  brought  them  home.  These  rough  ones  will,  I 
trust,  turn  out  well  :  we  cannot  be  so  sure  of  them." 

"  How  much  suffering  the  earlier  possession  of 
them  would  have  prevented  !  "  said  the  laird.  "  And 
now  they  are  ten  times  more  welcome  that  we  have 
the  good  of  that  first." 

*•  Sapphires  and  all  of  the  finest  quality ! "  con- 
tinued Mr.  Burns,  in  no  mood  for  reflection.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  you  must  do,  Mr.  Cosmo  :  you  must  get 
a  few  sheets  of  tissue  paper,  and  wrap  every  stone 
up  separately  —  along  job,  but  the  better  worth 
doing  !     There  must  be  a  thousand  of  them  ! " 

"  How  can  they  hurt,  being  the  hardest  things  in 
the  world  ? "  said  Cosmo. 

666 


A   LITTLE    LIFE    WELL    ROUNDED.  667 

"  Put  them  in  any  other  company  you  please  — 
wheel  them  to  the  equator  in  a  barrowful  of  gravel, 
or  line  their  box  with  sand-paper,  and  you  may  leave 
them  naked  as  they  were  born  !  But,  bless  thy  five 
wits  !  did  you  never  hear  the  proverb,  '  Diamond  cut 
diamond'?  They're  all  of  a  sort,  you  see  !  I'd  as 
soon  shut  up  a  thousand  game-cocks  in  the  same 
cellar.  If  they  don't  scratch  each  other,  they  may, 
or  they  might,  or  they  could,  or  they  would,  or  at  aiiy 
rate  they  should  scratch  each  other.  It  was  all  very 
well  so  long  as  they  lay  in  the  wall  of  this  your  old 
diamond-mine.  But  now  you'll  be  for  ever  playing 
with  them  !  No,  no  !  wrap  each  one  up  by  itself,  I  say." 

"  We're  so  far  from  likely  to  keep  fingering  them, 
Mr.  Burns,"  said  Cosmo,  "that  our  chief  reason  for 
wishing  you  to  see  them  was  that  you  might,  if  you 
would  oblige  us,  take  them  away,  and  dispose  of  them 
for  us ! " 

"  A-ah  ! "  rejoined  Mr.  Burns,  "  I  fear  I  am  getting 
too  old  for  a  transaction  of  such  extent !  I  should 
have  to  go  to  London  —  to  Paris  —  to  Amsterdam  — 
who  knows  where.'*  —  that  is,  to  make  the  best  of 
them  —  perhaps  to  America  !  And  here  was  I  think- 
ing of  retiring !  " 

"  Then  let  this  be  your  last  business-transaction. 
It  will  not  be  a  bad  one  to  finish  up  with.  You  can 
make  it  a  good  thing  for  yourself  as  well  as  for  us." 

"  If  I  undertake  it,  it  shall  be  at  a  fixed  percentage." 

"Ten?"  suggested  Cosmo. 

"  No  ;  there  is  no  risk,  only  labour  in  this.  When 
I  took  ten  for  that  other  diamond,  I  paid  you  the 
money  for  it,  you  will  remember  :  that  makes  a  dif- 


668  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ference.     I  wish  you  would  come  with  me;  I  could 
help  you  to  see  a  little  of  the  world." 

",1  should  like  it  greatly,  but  I  could  not  leave  my 
father." 

Mr.  Burns  was  a  little  nervous  about  the  safety  of 
the  portmanteau  that  held  such  a  number  of  tiny  par* 
eels  in  silver  paper,  and  would  not  go  inside  the  coach 
although  it  rained,  but  took  a  place  in  sight  of  his 
luggage.  I  will  not  say  what  the  diamonds  brought. 
I  would  not  have  my  book  bristle  with  pounds  like  a 
French  novel  with  francs.  They  more  than  answered 
even  Mr.  Burns's  expectations. 

When  he  was  gone,  and  all  hope  for  this  world 
vanished  in  the  fruition  of  assured  solvency,  the  laird 
began  to  fail.  While  Cosmo  was  yet  on  the  way  with 
Mr.  Burns  and  the  portmanteau  to  meet  the  coach, 
he  said  to  his  faithful  old  friend, 

"  I'm  tired.  Grizzle ;  I'll  gang  to  my  bed,  I  think. 
Gien  ye'll  gie  me  a  han',  I  winna  bide  for  Cosmo." 

"  Eh,  sir,  what  for  sud  ye  be  in  sic  a  hurry  to  sleep 
awa'  the  bonny  daylicht?"  remonstrated  Grizzle, 
shot  through  with  sudden  fear,  nor  daring  allow  to 
herself  she  was  afraid.  "  Bide  till  the  yoong  laird 
comes  back  wi'  the  news :  he  winna  be  lang." 

"Gien  ye  haena  time.  Grizzle,  I  can  manage  for 
mysel'.  Gang  yer  wa's,  lass.  Ye  hae  been  a  rlcht 
guid  freen'  to  yer  auld  mistress !  Ye  hae  dune  yer 
best  for  him  'at  she  left  1 " 

"Eh,  sir!  dinna  speyk  like  that.  It's  terrible  to 
hearken  til ! —  I'  the  verra  face  o'  the  providence  'at's 
been  takin'  sic  pains  to  mak  up  to  ye  for  a'  ye  hae 
gang  throu' — noo  whan  a  's  weel,  an'  like   to   be 


A    LITTLE    LIFE    WELL    ROUNDED.  669 

weel,  to  turn  roon'  like  this,  an'  speyk  o'  gaein'  to  yer 
bed  !     It's  no  worthy  o'  ye,  laird !  " 

He  was  so  amused  with  her  expostulation  that  he 
laughed  heartily,  brightened  up,  and  did  not  go  to 
bed  before  Cosmo  came — kept  up,  indeed,  a  good 
part  of  the  day,  and  retired  with  the  sun  shining  in 
at  his  western  window. 

The  next  day,  however,  he  did  not  rise.  But  he 
had  no  suffering  to  speak  of,  and  his  face  was  serene 
as  the  gathering  of  the  sunrays  to  go  down  together; 
a  perfect  yet  deepening  peace  was  upon  it.  Cosmo 
scarcely  left  him,  but  watched  and  waited,  with  a  cold 
spot  at  his  heart,  which  kept  growing  bigger  and 
bigger,  as  he  saw  his  father  slowly  drifting  out  on  the 
ebb-tide  of  this  earthly  life.  Cosmo  had  now  to  go 
through  that  mostpainful  experience  of  all — when  the 
loved  seem  gradually  withdrawing  from  human  con- 
tact and  human  desires,  their  cares  parting  slowly 
farther  and  farther  from  the  cares  of  those  they  leave 
—  a  gulf  ever  widening  between,  already  impassable 
as  lapsing  ages  can  make  it.  But  when  final  depart- 
ure had  left  the  mind  free  to  work  for  the  heart, 
Cosmo  said  to  himself  —  "What  if  the  dying  who 
seem  thus  divided  from  us,  are  but  looking  over  the 
tops  of  insignificant  earthly  things  ?  What  if  the  heart 
within  them  is  lying  content  in  a  closer  contact  with 
ours  than  our  dull  fears  and  too  level  outlook  will 
allow  us  to  share  ?  One  thing  their  apparent  with- 
drawal means  —  that  we  must  go  over  to  them ;  they 
cannot  retrace,  for  that  would  be  to  retrograde. 
They  have  already  begun  to  learn  the  language  and 
ways  of  the  old  world,   begun  to  be  children   there 


670  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

afresh,  while  we  remain  still  the  slaves  of  new,  low- 
bred habits  of  unbelief  and  self-preservation,  which 
already  to  them  look  as  unwise  as  unlovely.  But  our 
turn  will  come,  and  we  shall  go  after,  and  be  taught 
of  them.  In  the  meantime  let  us  so  live  that  it  may 
be  the  easier  for  us  in  dying  to  let  the  loved  ones 
know  that  we  are  loving  them  all  the  time." 

The  laird  ceased  to  eat,  and  spoke  seldom,  but 
would  often  smile  —  only  there  was  in  his  smile  too 
that  far-off  something  which  troubled  his  son.  One 
word  he  often  murmured  — peace.  Two  or  three  times 
there  came  as  it  were  a  check  in  the  drift  seaward, 
and  he  spoke  plainly.  This  is  very  near  what  he  said 
on  one  of  these  occasions  : 

"  Peace !  peace !  Cosmo,  my  son,  ye  dinna  ken  hoo 
strong  it  can  be !  Naebody  can  ken  what  it's  like  till 
it  comes.  I  hae  been  troubled  a'  my  life,  an'  noo  the 
verra  peace  is  'maist  ower  muckle  for  me  !  It's  like 
as  gien  the  sun  wad  put  oot  the  fire.  I  jist  seem 
whiles  to  be  lyin'  here  waitin'  for  ye  to  come  intil  my 
peace,  an'  be  ane  wi'  me!  But  ye  hae  a  lang  this 
warl's  life  afore  ye  yet.  Eh  !  winna  it  be  gran'  whan 
it's  weel  ower,  an'  ye  come !  You  an'  me  an'  yer 
mother  an'  God  an'  a' !  But  somehoo  I  dinna  seem 
to  be  lea'in'  ye  aither  —  no  half  sae  muckle  as  whan 
ye  gaed  awa'  to  the  college,  an'  that  although  ye're 
ten  times  mair  to  me  noo  than  ye  war  than.  Deith 
canna  weel  be  muckle  like  onything  we  think  aboot 
it;  but  there  maun  surely  be  a  heap  o'  fowk  unco 
dreary  an'  fusionless  i'  the  warl'  deith  taks  us  til ;  an' 
the  mair  I  think  aboot  it,  the  mair  likly  it  seems 
we'll  hae  a  heap  to  du  wi'  them  —  a  sair  wark  tryin' 


A    LITTLE    LIFE    WELL    ROUNDED.  67 1 

to  lat  them  ken  what  they  are,  an'  whaur  they  cam 
frae,  an'  hoo  they  maun  gang  to  win  hame  —  for  deith 
can  no  more  be  yer  hame  nor  a  sair  fa'  upo'  the  ro'd 
be  yer  bed.  There  may  be  mony  ane  there  we  ca'd 
auld  here,  'at  we'll  hae  to  tak  like  a  bairn  upo'  oor 
knees  an'  bring  up.  I  see  na  anither  w'y  o'  't.  The 
Lord  may  ken  a  better,  but  I  think  he's  shawn  me 
this.  For  them  'at  are  Christ's  maun  hae  wark  like 
his  to  du,  an'  what  for  no  the  personal  ministrations 
o'  redemption  to  them  'at  are  deid,  that  they  may 
come  alive  by  kennin'  him  ?  Auld  bairns  as  weel  as 
yoong  hae  to  be  fed  wi'  the  spune." 

The  day  before  that  on  which  he  went,  he  seemed 
to  wake  up  suddenly,  and  said,  — 

"Cosmo,  I'm  no  inclined  to  mak  a  promise  wi' 
regaird  to  ony  possible  communication  wi'  ye  frae  the 
ither  warl',  nor  do  I  the  least  expec'  to  appear  or 
speyk  to  ye.  But  ye  needna  for  that  conclude  me 
awa'  frae  ye  a'  thegither.  Fowk  may  hae  a  hantle  o' 
communication  ohn  aither  o'  them  kent  it  at  the 
time,  I'm  thinkin'.  Min'  this  ony  gait:  God's  oor 
hame,  an'  gien  ye  be  at  hame  an'  I  be  at  hame,  we 
canna  be  far  sun'ert !  " 

As  the  sun  was  going  down,  closing  a  lovely  day  of 
promise,  the  boat  of  sleep,  with  a  gentle  wind  of  life 
and  birth  filling  its  sail,  bore,  softly  gliding,  the  old 
pilgrim  across  the  faint  border  between  this  and  that. 
It  may  be  that  then,  for  a  time,  like  a  babe  new-born, 
he  needed  careful  hands  and  gentle  nursing ;  and  if 
so,  there  was  his  wife,  who  must  surely  by  now  have 
had  time  to  grow  strong.  Cosmo  wept  and  was 
lonely,  but  not  broken-hearted ;  for  he  was  a  live  man 


672  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

with  a  mighty  hope  and  great  duties,  each  of  them 
ready  to  become  a  great  joy.  Such  a  man  I  do  not 
think  even  diamonds  could  hurt,  ahhough,  where 
breathes  no  wind  of  life,  those  very  crystals  of  light 
are  amongst  the  worst  in  Beelzebub's  army  to  fly-blow 
a  soul  into  a  thing  of  hate  and, horror. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


A    BREAKING    UP. 


Things  in  the  castle  went  on  in  the  same  quiet  way 
as  before  for  some  time.  Cosmo  settled  himself  in 
his  father's  room,  and  read  and  wrote,  and  pondered 
and  aspired.  The  household  led  the  same  homely- 
simple  life,  only  fared  better.  The  housekeeping 
was  in  Grizzle's  hands,  and  she  was  a  liberal  soul  — 
a  true  bread-giver. 

James  Gracie  did  not  linger  long  behind  his  friend. 
His  last  words  were,  "  I  won'er  gien  I  hae  a  chance 
o'  winnin'  up  wi'  the  laird !  " 

On  the  morning  that  followed  his  funeral,  as  soon 
as  breakfast  was  over,  Aggie  sought  Cosmo,  where  he 
sat  in  the  garden  with  a  book  in  his  hand. 

"  Whaur  are  ye  gaein',  Aggie  ? "  he  said,  as  she  ap- 
proached prepared  for  walking. 

"  My  hoor's  come,"  she  answered.  "  It's  time  I 
was  awa'." 

"  I  dinna  un'erstan'  ye,  Aggie,"  he  returned. 

"  Hoo  sud  ye,  sir  1  Ilka  body  kens,  or  sud  ken, 
673 


674         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

what  lies  to  their  ain  han'.  It  lies  to  mine  to  gang. 
I'm  no  wantit  langer.  Ye  wadna  hae  me  ait  the 
breid  o'  idleness  ?  " 

"  But,  Aggie,"  remonstrated  Cosmo,  "  ye're  ane  o* 
the  faimily  !  I  wad  as  sune  think  o'  seein'  my  ain 
sister,  gien  I  had  ane,  gang  fra  hame  for  sic  a  nae 
rizzon  at  a' !  " 

The  tears  rose  in  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  trembled : 
"  It  canna  be  helpit ;  I  maun  gang,"  she  said, 
Cosmo  was  dumb  for  many  moments  ;  he  had  never 
thought  of  such  a  possibility  ;  and  Aggie  stood  silent 
before  him. 

"  What  hae  ye  i'  yer  heid,  Aggie  ?  What  thoucht 
ye  o'  duin'  wi'  yersel'  ? "  he  asked  at  length,  his  heart 
swelling  so  that  he  could  scarcely  bring  out  the 
words. 

"  I'm  gaein'  to  luik  for  a  place." 
"  But,  Aggie,  gien  it  canna  be  helpit ;  and  gang  ye 
maun,  ye  ken  I'm  rich,  an'  /  ken  there's  naebody  i' 
the  warl'  wi'  a  better  richt  to  share  in  what  I  hae : 
wadna  ye  like  to  gang  til  a  ladies'  school,  an'  learn 
a  heap  o'  things  ?  " 

"  Na,  I  wadna.  It's  hard  wark  I  need  to  baud  me 
i'  the  richt  ro'd.  I  can  aye  learn  what  I  hunger  for, 
an'  what  ye  dinna  desire  ye'U  never  learn.  Thanks 
to  yersel'  an'  Maister  Simon,  ye  hae  putten  me  i'  the 
w'y  o'  that!  It's  no  kennin'  things  —  it's  kennin' 
things  upo'  the  ro'd  ye  gang,  'at  's  o'  consequence  to 
ye.     The  lave  I  mak  naething  o'."  • 

"  But  a  time  micht  come  whan  ye  wad  want  mony  a 
thing  ye  micht  hae  learnt  afore." 

"  Whan  that  time  comes,  I'll  learn  them  than,  wi' 


A    BREAKING    UP.  675 


half  the  trouble,  an'  in  half  the  time,  —  no  to  men- 
tion the  pleesur  o'  learnin'  them.  Noo,  they  wad  but 
tak  me  frae  the  things  I  can  an'  maun  mak  use  o'. 
Na,  Cosmo,  I'm  b'un'  to  du  something  wi'  what  I  hae, 
an'  no  bide  till  I  get  mair.     I'll  be  aye  gettin'." 

"  Weel,  Aggie,  I  dauma  temp'  ye  to  bide  gien  ye 
oucht  to  gang;  an'  ye  wad  but  despise  me  gien  I  was 
fule  eneuch  to  try  't.  But  ye  canna  refuse  to  share 
wi'  me.  That  wadna  be  like  ane  'at  had  the  same 
father  an'  the  same  maister.  Tak  a  thoosan'  poun'  to 
begin  wi',  an'  gang  an'  —  an'  du  onything  ye  like,  only 
dinna  work  yersel'  to  deith  wi'  rouch  wark.  I  canna 
bide  to  think  o'  't." 

"  A  thoosan'  poun' !  No  ae  baubee  !  Cosmo,  I 
wad  hae  thoucht  ye  had  mair  sense !  What  wad 
baudrins  {pussy-cat)  there  du  wi'  a  silk  goon .?  Ye 
can  gie  me  the  twa  poun'  ten  I  gae  to  Grizzle  to  help 
haud  the  life  in  's  a'.  A  body  maun  hae  something 
i'  their  pooch  gien  they  can,  an'  gien  they  canna,  they 
maun  du  wi'  naething.  It's  won'erfu'  hoo  little  's 
railly  wantit !" 

Cosmo  felt  miserable. 

"  Ye  winna  surely  gang  ohn  seein'  Maister  Simon  ! " 

"  I  tried  to  see  him  last  nicht,  but  auld  Dorty  wadna 
lat  me  near  him.  I  wad  fain  say  fareweel  til 
him." 

"Weel,  put  aff  gaein'  awa'  till  the  morn,  an'  we'll 
gang  thegither  the  nicht  an'  see  him.  Dorty  winna 
haud  me  oot." 

Aggie  hesitated,  thought,  and  consented.  Leaving 
Cosmo  more  distressed  than  she  knew,  she  went  to 
the  kitchen,  took  off  her  bonnet,  and  telling  Grizzle 


676  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

she  was  not  going  till  the  morrow,  sat  down,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  pare  the  potatoes. 

"Ance  mair,"  said  Grizzie,  resuming  an  unclosed 
difference,  "  what  for  ye  sud  gang's  clean  'ayont  me. 
It's  true  the  auld  men  are  awa',  but  here's  the  auld 
wife  left,  an'  she'll  be  a  mither  to  ye,  as  weel's  she 
kens  hoo,  an'  a  lass  o'  your  sense  is  easy  to  mither. 
I'  the  name  o'  God  I  say  't,  the  warl'  micht  as  weel 
objec'  to  twa  angels  bidin'  i'  h'aven  thegither  as  you 
an'  the  yoong  laird  in  ae  hoose !  Say  'at  they*  like, 
ye're  but  a  servan'  lass,  an'  here  am  I  ower  ye !  Ag- 
gie, I'm  grouin'  auld,  an'  railly  no  fit  to  mak  a  bed 
my  lane  —  no  to  mention  scoorin'  the  flure  !  It's  no 
considerate  o'  ye,  Aggie  !  —  jist  'cause  yer  father  — 
hoots,  he  was  but  yer  gran'father  !  —  's  deid  o'  a  guid 
auld  age,  an'  gaithert  til  his  fathers,  to  gang  an'  lea' 
me  my  lane !  Whaur  am  I  to  get  a  body  I  cud  bide 
to  hae  i'  my  sicht,  an'  you  awa'  —  you  'at's  been  like 
bane  o'  my  bane  to  me  !  It's  no  guid  o'  ye,  Aggie ! 
There  maun  be  temper  intil  't!  I'm  sure  I  ken  no 
cause  ever  I  gae  ye." 

Aggie  said  not  a  word ;  she  had  said  all  she  could 
say,  over  and  over ;  so  now  she  pared  her  potatoes, 
and  was  silent.  Her  heart  was  sore,  but  her  mind 
was  clear,  and  her  will  strong. 

Up  and  down  the  little  garden  Cosmo  walked, 
revolving  many  things.  "  What  is  this  world  and  its 
ways,"  he  said,  "  but  a  dream  that  dreams  itself  out 
and  is  gone  !  " 

The  majority  of  men,  whether  they  think  or  not, 
worship  solidity  and  fact :  to  such  Cosmo's  conclu- 
sion must  seem  both  foolish  and  dangerous  —  though 


A    BREAKING    UP.  677 


a  dream  may  be  filled  with  truth,  and  a  fact  be  a 
mere  shred  for  the  winds  of  the  limbo  of  vanities. 
Everything  that  cajt  pass  belongs  to  the  same  cate- 
gory with  the  dream.  The  question  is  whether  the 
passing  body  leaves  a  live  soul ;  whether  the  dream 
has  been  dreamed,  the  life  lived  aright.  For  there  is 
a  reality  beyond  all  facts  of  suns  and  systems  ;  solidity 
itself  is  but  the  shadow  of  a  divine  necessity;  and 
there  may  be  more  truth  in  a  fable  than  in  a  whole 
biography.  Where  life  and  truth  are  one,  there  is  no 
passing,  no  dreaming  more.  To  that  waking  all 
dreams  truly  dreamed  are  guiding  the  dreamer.  But 
the  last  thing  —  and  this  was  the  conclusion  of 
Cosmo's  meditation — any  dreamer  needs  regard,  is 
the  judgment  of  other  dreamers  upon  his  dreams. 
The  all-pervading,  ill-odoured  phantom  called  Society 
is  but  the  ghost  of  a  false  God.  The  fear  of  man, 
the  trust  in  man,  the  deference  to  the  opinion  of  man, 
is  the  merest  worship  of  a  rag-stuffed  idol.  The  man 
who  seeks  the  judgment  of  God  can  well  smile  at  the 
unsolicited  approval  or  condemnation  of  self-styled 
Society.  There  is  a  true  society  —  quite  another 
thing.  Doubtless  the  judgment  of  the  world  is  of 
even  moral  value  to  those  capable  of  regarding  it. 
To  deprive  a  thief  of  the  restraining  influence  of  the 
code  of  thieves'  honour,  would  be  to  do  him  irreparable 
wrong ;  so  with  the  tradesman  whose  law  is  the  custom 
of  the  trade  ;  but  God  demands  an  honesty,  a  dignity, 
a  beauty  of  being,  altogether  different  from  that  de- 
manded by  man  of  his  fellow  ;  and  he  who  is  taught 
of  God  is  set  out  of  sight  above  such  law  as  that  of 
thieves'  honour,  trade-custom,  or  social  recognition  — 


678  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

all  of  the  same  quality  —  subjected  instead  to  a  law 
which  obeyed  is  liberty,  disobeyed  is  a  hell  deeper 
than  Society's  attendant  slums. 

"Here  is  a  woman,"  said  Cosmo  to  himself,  "who, 
with  her  earnings  and  her  labour  both,  ministered  to 
the  very  bodily  life  of  my  father  and  myself!  She 
has  been  in  the  house  the  angel  of  God — the  noblest, 
truest  of  women  !  She  has  ten  times  as  much  genuine 
education  as  most  men  who  have  been  to  college ! 
Her  brain  is  second  only  to  her  heart! — If  it  had 
but  pleased  God  to  make  her  my  sister !  But  there 
is  a  way  of  pulling  out  the  tongue  of  Slander !  " 

The  evening  was  Mr.  Simon's  best  time,  and  they 
therefore  let  the  sun  go  down  before  they  left  the 
castle  to  visit  him.  On  their  way  they  had  a  right 
pleasant  talk  about  old  things,  now  the  one  now  the 
other  bringing  some  half  faded  event  from  the  store- 
closet  of  memory. 

"  I  doobt  ye  winna  min'  me  takin'  ye  oot  o'  the 
Warlock  ae  day  there  was  a  gey  bit  o'  a  spait  on  ? " 
said  Agnes  at  length,  looking  up  in  Cosmo's  face. 

"  Eh,  I  never  h'ard  o'  that,  Aggie  ! "  replied  Cos- 
mo. 

"  I  canna  think  to  this  day  hoo  it  was  ye  fell  in," 
she  went  on :  "I  hadna  the  chairge  o'  ye  at  the 
time.  Ye  maun  hae  run  oot  o'  the  hoose,  an'  me 
after  ye.  I  was  verra  near  taen  awa'  wi'  ye.  Hoo 
we  wan  oot  o'  the  watter  I  canna  un'erstan'.  A'  'at 
I  ken  is  'at  whan  I  cam  to  mysel',  we  war  lyin'  grip- 
pit  til  ane  anither  upon  a  laich  bit  o'  the  bank." 

"  But  hoo  was't  'at  naebody  ever  said  a  word  aboot 
it  efterhin'  ?  "  asked  Cosmo. 


A    BREAKING    UP.  679 


"  I  never  tellt  onybody,  an'  ye  wasna  auld  eneuch 
no  to  forget  a'  aboot  it." 

"Whatfor-didnaye  tell?" 

"  I  was  feart  they  wad  think  it  my  wite,  an'  no  lat 
me  tak  chairge  o'  ye  ony  mair,  whauras  I  kent  ye 
was  safer  wi'  me  nor  wi'  ony  ither  aboot  the  place. 
Gien  it  had  been  my  wite,  I  cudna  hae  hauden  my 
tongue  ;  but  as  it  was,  I  didna  see  I  was  b'un'  to  tell." 

"  Hoo  did  ye  hide  it  ?  " 

"  I  ran  wi'  he  hame  to  oor  ain  hoose.  There  was 
naebody  there.  I  tuik  aff  yer  weet  claes,  an'  pat  ye 
intil  my  bed  till  I  got  them  dry." 

"  An'  hoo  did  ye  wi'  yer  ain  ? " 

"  By  the  time  yours  was  dry,  mine  was  dry  tu." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  cottage,  Dorty  demurred, 
but  her  master  heard  Cosmo's  voice  and  rang  his  bell. 

"  I  little  thought  your  father  would  have  gone 
before  me,"  said  Mr.  Simon.  "I  think  I  was  aware 
of  his  death.  I  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing,  neither 
was  I  thinking  about  him  at  the  moment ;  but  he 
seemed  to  come  to  me,  and  I  said  to  myself,  '  He  is 
on  his  way  home.'  I  shall  have  a  talk  with  him  by 
and  by." 

Agnes  told  him  she  had  come  to  bid  him  good-bye  ; 
she  was  going  after  a  place. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  after  a  thoughtful  pause,  "  so 
long  as  we  obey  the  light  in  us,  and  that  light  is  not 
darkness,  we  can't  go  wrong.  If  we  should  mistake, 
he  will  turn  things  round  for  us  ;  and  if  we  be  to 
blame,  he  will  let  us  see  it." 

He  was  weak,  and  they  did  not  stay  long. 

"Don't  judge   my  heart  by  my  words,   my  dear 


68o         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

scholars,"  he  said.  "My  heart  is  right  toward  you, 
but  I  am  too  weary  to  show  it.  God  bless  you  both. 
I  may  not  see  you  again,  Agnes,  but  I  shall  think  of 
you  there,  and  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you,  be  sure  I 
will." 

When  they  left  the  cottage,  the  twilight  was  half- 
way towards  the  night,  and  a  vague  softness  in  the 
east  prophesied  the  moon.  Cosmo  led  Agnes 
through  the  fields  to  the  little  hollow  where  she  had 
so  often  gone  to  seek  him.  There  they  sat  down  in 
the  grass,  and  waited  for  the  moon.  Cosmo  pointed 
out  the  exact  spot  where  she  rose  that  night  she 
looked  at  him  through  the  legs  of  the  cow. 

"Ye  min'  Grizzle's  rime,"  he  said : 

"  *  Whan  the  coo  loups  ower  the  mune, 
The  reid  gowd  rains  intil  men's  shune '  ? 

I  believe  Grizzle  took  the  queer  sicht  for  a  guid 
omen.  It's  unco  strange  hoo  fowk  '11  mix  up  God 
an'  chance,  seein'  there  could  hardly  be  twa  mair 
contradictory  ideas  !     I  min*  ance  hearin'  a  man  say, 

*  It's  almost  a  providence  !'  " 

"I  doobt  wi'  maist  fowk/'  said  Aggie,  "it's  only 

*  There's  almost  a  God.'  For  my  pairt  I  see  nae  room 
atween  no  believin'  in  him  at  a',  an'  believin'  in  him 
a'  thegither- an'  lattin  him  du  what  he  likes  wi'  's." 

"  I'm  o'  your  min'  there,  Aggie,  oot  an'  oot,"  re- 
sponded Cosmo. 

As  he  spoke  the  moon  came  peering  up,  and,  turn- 
ing to  Agnes  to  share  the  sight  with  her,  he  saw  the 
yellow  light  reflected  from  tears. 


A    BREAKING    UP.  68 1 


"  Aggie  !  Aggie !  "  he  said,  in  much  concern,  "what 
are  ye  greitin'  for  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer,  but  wiped  away  her  tears, 
and  tried  to  smile.     After  a  little  pause, 

"  Ony  body  wad  think,  Cosmo,"  she  said,  "  'at  gien 
I  believed  in  a  God,  he  maun  be  a  sma'  ane  !  What 
for  sud  onybody  greit  'at  has  but  a  far  awa'  notion  o' 
sic  a  God  as  you  an'  the  laird  an'  Maister  Simon 
believes  in ! " 

"  Ye  may  weel  say  that,  Aggie !  "  rejoined  Cosmo  — 
yet  sighed  as  he  said  it,  for  he  thought  of  Lady  Joan. 
A  long  pause  followed,  and  then  he  spoke  again. 

"  Aggie,"  he  said,  "  there  canna  weel  be  twa  r  this 
warl'  'at  ken  ane  anither  better  nor  you  an'  me.  We 
hae  been  bairns  thegither ;  we  hae  been  to  the  schuil 
thegither ;  we  hae  had  the  same  maister ;  we  hae 
come  throu  dour  times  thegither  —  I  doobt  we  hae 
been  hungry  thegither,  though  ye  saidna  a  word ;  we 
hae  warstlet  wi'  poverty,  an'  maybe  wi'  unbelief ;  we 
loe  the  same  fowk  best ;  an'  abune  a'  we  set  the  wuU 
o'  God.  It  wad  be  sair  upo'  baith  o'  's  to  pairt  —  an' 
to  me  a  vex  forby  'at  the  first  thing  w'alth  did  for  me 
sud  be  to  tak  you  awa'.  It  wad  'maist  brak  my  hert 
to  think  'at  her  'at  cam  throu  the  Ian'  o'  drowth  wi' 
me  —  ay,  tuik  me  throu'  't'  for,  wantin'  her,  I  wad  hae 
fa'en  to  rise  nae  mair,  sud  gang  on  climmin'  the  dry 
hill-ro'd,  an'  me  lyin'  i'  the  bonny  meadow-gerse  at 
the  fut  o'  't.  It  canna  be  rizzon,  Aggie  !  What  for 
sud  ye  gang  ?  Merry  me,  Aggie,  an'  bide  —  bide  an* 
ca'  the  castel  yer  ain." 

"  Hoots !  wad  ye  merry  yer  mither !  "  cried  Agnes, 
and  to  Cosmo's  fresh  dismay  burst  into  laughter  and 


682  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

tears  together.  I  believe  it  was  the  sole  time  in  her 
life  she  ever  gave  way  to  discordant  emotion. 

Cosmo  stared  speechless.  It  was  as  if  an  angel 
had  made  a  poor  human  joke !  He  was  much  too 
bewildered  to  feel  hurt,  especially  as  he  was  aware  of 
no  committed  absurdity. 

But  Aggie  was  not  pleased  with  herself.  She 
choked  her  tears,  crushed  down  her  laughter,  and 
conquered.     She  took  his  hand  in  hers. 

'*  I  beg  yer  pardon,  Cosmo,"  she  said ;  "  I  shouldna 
hae  lauchen.  Lauchin',  I'm  sure,  's  far  eneuch  frae 
my  hert !  I  kenna  hoo  I  cam  to  du  't.  But  ye're  sic 
a  bairn,  Cosmo !  Ye  dinna  ken  what  ye  wad  hae  I 
An'  bein'  a  kin'  o'  a  mither  to  ye  a'  yer  life,  I  maun 
lat  ye  see  what  ye're  aboot  —  I  wadna  insist  owersair 
upo'  the  years  atween  's,  though  that's  no  a  sma'  mait- 
ter,  but  surely  ye  haena  to  be  tellt  at  this  time  o'  day, 
'at  for  fowk  to  merry  'at  dinna  loe  ane  anither,  is  little 
gien  it  be  onything  short  o'  a  sin." 

"/hae  aye  loed you,  Aggie,"  said  Cosmo,  with  some 
reproach  in  his  tone. 

"  Weel  du  I  ken  that.  An  ill  hert  wad  be  mine 
gien  it  didna  tell  me  that !  But,  Cosmo,  whan  ye  said 
the  word,  didna  your  hert  tell  ye  ye  meant  by 't  some- 
thing no  jist  the  verra  same  as  ye  inten'  it  me  to  un'- 
erstan'  by  't  ?  " 

"  Aggie,  Aggie  !  "  sighed  Cosmo,  "  I  wad  aye  loe 
ye  better  an'  better." 

"  Ay,  ye  wad,  gien  ye  cud,  Cosmo.  But  ye're  ower 
honest  to  see  throu'  yersel';  an'  I'm  no  sae  honest 
but  I  can  see  throu'  you.  Ye  wad  merry  me  'cause 
ye're  no  wullin'  to  pairt  wi'  me,  likin'  me  better  nor 


A    BREAKING    UP.  683 


ony  but  ane,  an'  her  ye  canna  get !  Gien  I  was  a 
leddy,  Cosmo,  maybe  I  michtna  be  ower  prood  to  tak 
ye  upo'  thae  terms,  but  no  bein'  what  I  am.  It  wad 
need  love  as  roon  's  a  sphere  for  that.  Eh,  but  there 
micht  come  a  time  o'  sair  repentance !  Ance  mer- 
ried  upo'  you,  gien  I  war  to  tak  it  intil  my  heid  'at  I 
was  ae  hair  i'  yer  gait,  or  'at  ye  was  ae  hair  freer  like 
wi  me  oot  o'  yer  sicht,  I  wad  be  like  to  rin  to  the 
verra  back-wa'  o'  creation  !  Na ;  it  was  weel  eneuch 
as  we  hae  been,  but  merried !  Ye  wad  be  guid  to  me 
aye,  I  ken  that,  but  I  wad  be  aye  wantin"  to  be  deid, 
'at  ye  micht  loe  me  a  wee  better.  I  say  naething  o' 
what  the  warl'  wad  say  to  the  laird  o'  Glenwarlock 
merryin'  his  servan'  lass ;  for  ye  care  as  little  for  the 
warl'  as  I  du,  an'  we're  baith  some  wiser  nor  it.  But 
efter  a',  Cosmo,  I  wad  be.  some  oot  o'  my  place  — 
wadna  I  noo.'  The  hen-birds  nae  doobt  are  aye  the 
soberer  to  luik  at,  an'  haena  the  gran'  colours  nor 
the  gran'  w'ys  wi'  them  'at  the  cocks  hae ;  but  still 
there's  a  measur  in  a'  thing :  it  wad  ill  set  a  common 
hen  to  hae  a  peacock  for  her  man.  My  sowl,  I  ken, 
wad  gang  han'  in  han',  in  a  heumble  w'y,  wi'  yours, 
for  I  un'erstan'  ye,  Cosmo  ;  an'  the  day  may  come 
whan  I'll  luik  fitter  for  yer  company  nor  I  can  the 
noo  ;  but  wha  like  me  could  help  a  sense  o'  unfitness, 
gien  it  war  but  gaein'  to  the  kirk  side  by  side  wi'  you  ? 
Luik  at  the  twa  o'  's  noo  i'  the  munelicht  thegither ! 
Dinna  ye  see  'at  we  dinna  match  ? "' 

"A'  that  wad  be  naething  gien  ye  loed  me, 
Aggie." 

"  Gien  ye  loed  me,  say,  Cosmo  —  loed  me  eneuch 
to  be  prood  o'  me  !     But  that  ye  dinna.     Exem'  yer 


684  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

ain  hert,  an'  ye'll  see  'at  ye  dinna.  —  An'  what  for 
sud  ye  ! " 

Here  Aggie  broke  down.  A  burst  of  silent  weep- 
ing, like  that  of  one  desiring  no  comfort,  followed. 
Suddenly  she  ceased  and  rose,  and  they  walked  home 
without  a  word. 

When  Cosmo  came  down  in  the  morning,  Aggie 
was  gone. 


CHAPTER  LX. 


REPOSE. 


Cosmo  had  no  need  of  a  very  searching  examina- 
tion of  his  heart  to  know  that  it  was  mainly  the  wish 
to  make  her  some  poor  return  for  her  devotion,  con- 
joined with  the  sincere  desire  to  retain  her  company, 
that  had  influenced  him  in  the  offer  she  had  been  too 
wise  and  too  genuinely  loving  to  accept.  He  did  not 
fall  into  any  depths  of  self-blame,  for,  whatever  its 
kind,  his  love  was  of  quality  pure  and  good.  The 
only  bitterness  his  offer  bore  was  its  justification  of 
Agnes's  departure. 

But  Grizzie  saw  no  justification  of  it  anywhere. 

"  What  I'm  to  du  wantin'  her,  I  div  not  ken.  No 
becoming  quo'  he,  for  a  lass  like  her  to  bide  wt^  a  bache- 
lor like  himseP  / 

"  H'ard  ever  onybody  sic  st}'te  !  As  gien  she  had 
been  a  lady  forsooth !  I  micht  wi'  jist  as  muckle 
sense  objec'  to  bidin'  wi'  him  mvsel' !  But  Is'  du 
what  I  like,  an'  lat  fowk  say  'at  they  like,  sae  lang 
as  I'm  na  fule  i'  my  ain  e'en  ! 
68s 


686  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 


I'm  ower  white,  Mr.  Gled,  for  you. 
Ow  na  !  ye're  no  that,  bonny  doo." 


But  by  degrees  Cosmo  grew  gently  ashamed  of 
himself  that  he  had  so  addressed  Agnes.  He  saw 
in  the  thing  a  failure  in  respect,  a  wrong  to  her  dig- 
nity. That  she  had  taken  it  so  sweetly  did  not  alter 
its  character.  Seeming  at  the  time  to  himself  to  be 
going  against  the  judgment  of  the  world,  and  treating 
it  with  the  contempt  it  always  more  or  less  deserves, 
he  had  in  reality  been  acting  in  no  small  measure 
according  to  it !  For  had  there  not  been  in  him  a 
vague  condescension  operant  all  the  time  ?  Had  he 
not  been  all  but  conscious  of  the  feeling  that  his  posi- 
tion made  up  for  any  want  in  his  love  ?  Had  she 
been  conventionally  a  lady,  instead  of  an  angel  in 
peasant  form,  would  he  have  been  so  ready  to  return 
her  kindness  with  an  offer  of  marriage  ?  There  was 
little  conceit  in  supposing  that  some,  even  of  higher 
position  than  his  own,  would  have  accepted  the  offer 
on  lower  terms;  but  knowing  Aggie  as  he  did.  he 
ought  not  to  have  made  it  to  her  :  she  was  too  large 
and  too  fine  for  such  an  experiment.  This  he  now 
fully  understood  ;  and  had  he  not  been  brought  up 
with  her  from  childhood  as  with,  an  elder  sister,  she 
might  even  now  have  begun  to  be  a  formidable  rival 
to  the  sweet  memories  of  Joan's  ladyhood.  For  he 
saw  in  her  that  which  is  at  the  root,  not  only  of  all 
virtue,  but  of  all  beauty,  of  all  grandeur,  of  all  growth, 
of  all  attraction.  Every  charm  —  in  its  essence,  in 
its  development,  in  its  embodiment,  is  a  flower  of 
the  tree  of  life,  whose  root  is  the  truth.     I  see   the 


REPOSE.  687 


smile  of  the  shallow  philosopher,  thinking  of  a 
certain  lady  to  him  full  of  charm,  who  has  no 
more  love  for  the  truth  than  a  mole  for  the  light. 
But  that  lady's  charm  does  not  spring  out  of  her; 
it  has  been  put  upon  her,  and  she  will  soon  de- 
stroy it.  It  comes  of  truth  otherwhere,  and  will  one 
day  leave  her  naked  and  not  lovely.  The  truth  was 
in  Agnes  merely  supreme.  To  have  asked  such  a 
one -to  marry  him  for  reasons  lower  than  the  highest 
was  good  ground  for  shame.  Not  therefore  even 
then  was  he  pai?ifully  ashamed,  for  he  felt  safe  with 
Agnes,  as  with  the  elder  sister  that  pardons  every- 
thing. 

It  was  some  little  time  before  they  had  any  news 
of  her;  but  they  heard  at  last  that  she  had  rented 
Grannie's  cottage  from  her  grand-daughter,  her  own 
aunt,  and  was  going  to  have  a  school  there  for  young 
children.  Cosmo  was  greatly  pleased,  for  the  work 
would  give  scope  to  some  of  her  highest  gifts  and 
best  qualities,  while  it  would  keep  her  within  reach 
of  possible  service.  Nothing  however  can  part  those 
who  are  of  the  true  mind  towards  the  things  that  are. 

Cosmo  betook  himself  heartily  to  study,  and  not 
only  read  but  wrote  regularly  every  day  —  no  more 
with  the  design  of  printing,  but  in  the  hope  of  shap- 
ing more  thoroughly  and  so  testing  more  truly  his  con- 
templations and  conclusions.  I  scorn  the  idea  that  a 
man  cannot  think  without  words,  but  Cosmo  thus  im- 
proved his  thinking,  and  learned  to  utter  accurately, 
that  is,  to  say  the  thing  he  meant,  and  keep  from  say- 
ing the  thing  he  did  not  mean. 

The  room  over  the  kitchen,  which  had  first  in  his 


688  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

memory  been  his  grandmother's,  then  became  his 
own,  and  returned  to  his  disposal  when  James  Grade 
died,  he  made  his  study ;  and  from  it  to  the  drawing- 
room,  with  the  assistance  of  a  village  mason,  exca- 
vated a  passage  —  for  it  was  little  less  than  excava- 
tion —  in  the  wall  connecting  the  two  blocks,  under 
the  passage  in  which  had  lain  the  treasure. 

The  main  issue  Grizzie's  new  command  of  money 
found  was  in  a  torrent  of  cleaning.  If  she  could 
have  had  her  way,  I  think  she  would  have  put  up 
scaffolds  all  over  the  outside  of  the  house,  and 
scrubbed  it  down  from  chimneys  to  foundations. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  Warlock  river,  the 
laird  rented  a  meadow,  and  there  Grizzle  had  the 
long  disused  satisfaction  of  seeing  two  cows  she  could 
call  hers,  the  finest  cows  in  the  country,  feeding  with 
a  vague  satisfaction  in  the  general  order  of  things. 
The  stable  housed  a  horse  after  Cosmo's  own  heart, 
on  which  he  made  excursions  into  the  country  round, 
partly  in  the  hope  of  coming  upon  some  place  not 
too  far  off  where  there  "was  land  to  be  bought. 

All  that  was  known  of  the  change  in  his  circum- 
stances was  that  he  had  come  into  a  large  fortune  by 
the  death  —  date  not  mentioned  —  of  a  relative  with 
whom  his  father  had  not  for  years  had  communication, 
and  Cosmo  never  any.  Lord  Lick-my-loof,  after  re- 
peated endeavours  to  get  some  information  about  this 
relative,  was  perplexed,  and  vaguely  suspicious. 

How  the  spending  of  the  money  thus  committed  to 
him  was  to  change  the  earthly  issues  of  his  life,  Cosmo 
had  not  yet  learned,  and  was  waiting  for  light  on  the 
matter.     For  a  man  is  not  bound  to  walk  in  the  dark, 


REPOSE.  689 


neither  must,  for  the  sake  of  doing  something,  run 
the  risk  of  doing  wrong.  He  that  believeth  shall  not 
make  haste ;  and  he  that  beheveth  not  shall  come  no 
speed.  He  had  nothing  of  the  common  mammonistic 
feeling  of  the  enormous  importance  of  money,  neither 
felt  that  it  laid  upon  him  a  heavier  weight  of  dut}^ 
than  any  other  of  the  gifts  of  God.  And  if  a  poet  is 
not  bound  to  rush  into  the  world  with  his  poem,  surely 
a  rich  man  is  not  bound  to  rush  into  the  world  with 
his  money.  Rather  set  a  herd  of  wild  horses  loose 
in  a  city  !  A  man  must  know  first  how  to  use  his  money, 
before  he  begin  to  sj^end  it.  And  the  way  to  use 
money  is  not  so  easily  discovered  as  some  would 
think,  for  it  is  not  one  of  God's  ready  means  of  doing 
good.  The  rich  man  as  such  has  no  reason  to  look 
upon  himself  as  specially  favoured.  He  has  reason 
to  think  himself  specially  tried.  Jesus,  loving  a  cer- 
tain youth,  did  him  the  greatest  kindness  he  had  in 
his  power,  telling  him  to  give  his  wealth  to  the  poor, 
and  follow  him  in  poverty.  The  first  question  is  not 
how  to  do  good  with  money,  but  how  to  keep  from 
doing  harm  with  it.  Whether  rich  or  poor,  a  man 
must  first  of  all  do  justice,  love  mercy,  and  walk 
humbly  with  his  God ;  then,  if  he  be  rich,  God  will 
let  him  know  how  to  spend.  There  must  be  ways  in 
which,  even  now,  a  man  may  give  the  half,  or  even 
the  whole  of  his  goods  to  the  poor,  without  helping 
the  devil.  Cosmo,  I  repeat,  was  in  no  haste :  it  is  not 
because  of  God's  poverty  that  the  world  is  so  slowly 
redeemed.  Not  the  most  righteous  expenditure  of 
money  will  save  it,  but  thai  of  life  and  soul  and 
spirit  —  it  may  be,  to  that,  of  nerve  and  muscle,  blood 


690  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

and  brain.  All  these  our  Lord  spent  —  but  no 
money.  Therefore  I  say,  that  of  all  means  for  saving 
the  world,  or  doing  good,  as  it  is  called,  money  comes 
last  in  order,  and  far  behind. 

Out  of  the  loneliness  in  which  his  father  left  him, 
grew  a  great  peace  and  new  strength.  More  real 
than  ever  was  the  other  world  to  him  now.  His 
father  could  not  have  vanished  like  a  sea-bubble  on 
the  sand  !  To  have  known  a  great  man  — perhaps  I 
do  not  mean  such  a  man  as  my  reader  may  be  think- 
ing of  —  is  to  have  some  assurance  of  immortality. 
One  of  the  best  of  men  said  to  me  once  that  he  did 
not  feel  any  longing  after  immortality,  but,  when  he 
thought  of  certain  persons,  he  could  not  for  a  moment 
believe  they  had  ceased.  He  had  beheld  the  lovely, 
believed  therefore  in  the  endless. 

Castle  Warlock  was  scarcely  altered  in  appearance. 
In  its  worst  poverty  it  had  always  looked  dignified. 
There  was  more  life  about  it  and  freedom,  but  not  so 
much  happiness.  The  diamonds  had  come,  but  his 
father  was  gone,  Aggie  was  gone,  Mr.  Simon  was 
going,  and  Joan  wouldnot  come !  Cosmo  had  scarce 
a  hope  for  this  world  ;  yet  not  the  less  did  he  await 
the  will  of  The  Will.  What  that  was,  time  would 
show,  for  God  works  in  time. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 


THE   THIRD    HARVEST. 


As  the  days  went  by,  Cosmo  saw  his  engagement 
to  Mr.  Henderson  drawing  near,  nor  had  the  smallest 
inclination  to  back  out  of  it.  The  farmer  would 
have  let  him  off  at  once,  no  doubt,  but  he  felt,  with- 
out thinking,  that  it  would  be  undignified,  morally 
speaking,  to  avoid,  because  he  was  now  in  plenty,  the 
engagement  granted  by  friendship  to  his  need.  Nor 
was  this  all,  for,  so  doing,  he  would  seem  to  allow 
that,  driven  by  necessit}%  he  had  undertaken  a  thing 
unworthy,  or  degrading;  for  Cosmo  would  never 
have  allowed  that  any  degree  of  hunger  could  justify 
a  poor  man  in  doing  a  thing  disgraceful  to  a  rich 
man.  No  true  man  will  ever  ask  of  fellow  creature, 
man  or  woman,  on  terms  however  extravagant,  the 
doing  of  a  thing  he  could  not  do  himself  without  a 
sense  of  degradation.  There  is  no  leveller  like  Chris- 
tianity—  but  it  levels  by  lifting  to  a  lofty  table-land, 
accessible  only  to  humility.  He  only  who  is  humble 
can  rise,  and  rising  lift. 

691 


692  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

In  thus  holding  to  what  he  had  undertaken,  a  man 
of  lower  nature  might  have  had  respect  to  the  exam- 
ple he  would  so  give  :  Cosmo  thought  only  of  honour- 
able and  grateful  fulfilment  of  his  contract.  Not 
only  would  it  have  been  a  poor  return  for  Mr.  Hen- 
derson's kindness  to  treat  his  service  as  something 
beneath  him  now,  but,  worst  of  all,  it  would  have 
been  to  accept  ennoblement  at  the  hands  of  Mam- 
mon, as  of  a  power  able  to  alter  his  station  in  God's 
world.  To  change  the  spirit  of  one's  ways  because 
of  money,  is  to  confess  onesself  a  born  slave,  a  thing 
of  outsides,  a  knight  of  Riches,  with  a  maggot  for  his 
crest. 

When  the  time  came,  therefore,  Cosmo  presented 
himself.  With  a  look  of  astonishment  shadowed  by 
disappointment,  the  worthy  farmer  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Laird,"  he  said,  "  I  didna  expec'  you  I " 

"  What  for  no  ?  "  returned  Cosmo.  "  Haena  I 
been  yer  fee'd  man  for  months  !  " 

"  Ye  put  me  in  a  kin'  o'  a  painfu'  doobt,  laird. 
Fowk  tellt  me  ye  had  fa'en  heir  til  a  sicht  o'  siller ! " 

"  But  allooin',  hoo  sud  that  affec'  my  bargain  wi' 
you  Mr.  Henderson  ?  Siller  i'  the  pooch  canna  tak 
obligation  frae  the  back." 

"  Drivin'  things  to  the  wa',  nae  doobt ! "  returned 
the  farmer.  "  I  micht  certainly  hae  ta'en  the  law  o' 
ye,  failin'  yer  appearance.  But  amo'  freen's,  that 
cudna  be ;  an'  'deed,  Mr.  Warlock,  gien  a  body  wad 
be  captious,  michtna  he  say  it  wad  hae  been  mair 
freen'ly  to  beg  aff  ? " 

"  A  bargain's  a  bargain,"  answered  Cosmo  ;  "  an' 
to  beg  aff  0'  ane  'cause  I  was  nae  langer  i'  the  same 


THE   THIRD    HARVEST.  693 

necessity  as  whan  I  made  it,  wad  hae  been  a  mere 
shame.  Gien  my  father  hed  been  wi'  me,  an'  no 
weel  eneuch  to  Hke  me  oot  o'  's  sicht,  I  wad  hae 
beggit  aff  fest  eneuch,  but  wi'  no  rizzon  it  wad  hae 
been  ill-mainnert,  no  to  say  dishonest  an'  oongratefu'. 
Gien  ye  hae  spoken  to  ony  ither  i'  my  place,  he  s' 
hae  the  fee,  an'  Is'  hae  the  wark.  Lat  things  stan', 
Mr.  Henderson." 

"  Laird  !  "  answered  the  farmer,  not  a  little  moved, 
"  there's  no  a  man  I  wad  raither  see  at  my  wark  nor 
yersel'.  A'  o'  them,  men  an'  women,  work  the  bet- 
ter whan  ye're  amo'  them.  They  wad  be  affrontit  no 
to  hand  up  wi'  a  gentleman!  Sae  come  awa'  an' 
walcome!  —  ye'll  tak  something  afore  we  fa'tu  ?  " 

Cosmo  accepted  a  jug  of  milk,  half  cream,  from 
the  hand  of  Elsie. 

The  girl  was  much  unproved,  having  partially  un- 
learned a  good  deal  of  the  nonsense  gathered  at 
school,  and  come  to  take  a  fair  share  with  her  sisters 
in  the  work  of  the  house  and  farm  —  enlightened 
thereto  doubtless  by  her  admiration  for  Cosmo.  It 
is  not  from  those  they  marry  people  always  learn  most. 

When  Cosmo  reached  the  end  of  the  first  bout,  and 
stood  tc  sharpen  his  scythe,  he  was  startled  to  see,  a 
little  way  off,  gathering  after  one  of  the  scythes,  a 
form  he  could  not  mistake.  She  had  known  he  would 
keep  his  troth !  She  did  not  look  up,  but  he  knew 
her  figure  and  every  motion  of  it  too  well  to  take  her 
for  another  than  Aggie. 

That  she  thus  exposed  herself  to  misrepresentation, 
Aggie  was  well  enough  aware,  but  with  the  knowledge 
of  how  things  stood  between  her  and  Cosmo,  she  was 


694  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

far  above  heeding  the  danger.  Those  who  do  the 
truth  are  raised  even  above  defying  the  world,  De-  ~ 
fiance  betrays  a  latent  respect,  but  Aggie  gave  herself 
no  more  trouble  about  the  opinion  of  the  world  than 
that  of  a  lower  animal.  Those  who  are  of  the  world 
may  defy,  but  they  cannot  ignore  it. 

She  had  declined  being  a  party  to  Cosmo's  marry- 
ing his  mother,  but  was  not  therefore  prepared  to 
expose  him  undefended  to  any  one  whatever  who 
might  wish  to  take  him,  even  should  she  be  of  age 
unobjectionable  ;  and  she  knew  one  who  would  at 
least  be  hampered  by  no  scruples  arising  from  con- 
scious unfitness.  Agnes  might  well  have  thought  it 
better  he  should  marry  the  cottar's  than  the  farmer's 
daughter !  Anyhow  she  was  resolved  to  keep  an  eye 
on  the  young  woman  so  long  as  Cosmo  was  within 
her  swoop.  He  was  chivalrous  and  credulous,  and 
who  could  tell  what  Elsie  might  not  dare !  Her  re- 
fusal to  be  his  wife  did  not  deprive  her  of  antecedent 
rights.  And  there  she  was,  gathering  behind  Cosmo, 
as  two  years  ago  ! 

The  instant  she  was  free,  Aggie  set  out  for  home, 
not  having  exchanged  a  word  with  Cosmo,  but  in- 
tending to  linger  on  the  way  in  the  hope  of  his  over- 
taking her.  The  Hendersons  would  have  had  him  stay 
the  night,  but  he  had  given  his  man  orders  to  wait  him 
with  his  horse  at  a  certain  point  on  the  road ;  and 
Aggie  had  not  gone  far  before  he  got  up  with  her. 

Whatever  was  or  had  been  the  state  of  her  feelings 
towards  Cosmo,  she  had  never  mistaken  his  towards 
her  ;  neither  had  she  failed  to  see  that  his  heart  was 
nowise  wounded  by  her  refusal  of  his  offer  :  it  would 


THE   THIRD    HARVEST.  695 

have  been  a  little  comfort  to  her,  having  to  be  severe 
with  herself,  to  see  some  sign  of  suffering  in  him, 
but  she  had  got  over  much,  and  now  was  nowise 
annoyed  at  the  cheery  unembarrassed  tone  in  which 
he  called  out  when  he  saw  her,  and  turning  greeted 
him  with  the  same  absence  of  constraint. 

"  An'  sae  ye're  gaein'  to  tak  the  bairnies  un'er  yer 
wing,  Aggie  ! "  said  Cosmo,  as  they  walked  along. 
"  They're  lucky  little  things  'at'll  gang  to  your  schuil  ! 
.What  pat  it  i'  yer  heid  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Simon  advised  it,"  answered  x\ggie  ;  "  but  I 
believe  I  pat  it  in  his  heid  first,  sayin'  hoo  little  was 
dune  for  the  bairnies  jist  at  the  time  they  war  easiest 
to  guide.  Rouch  wark  maks  the  ban's  rouch,  and 
rouch  words  maks  the  hert  rouch." 

"The  haill  country-side  'ill  be  gratefu'  to  ye,  Aggie. 
—  Ye'll  lat  me  come  an'  see  ye  whiles  ?  " 

"  Nane  sae  welcome,"  answered  Aggie.  "  But 
wull  ye  be  bidin'  on,  noo  'at  ye  haena  him  'at's  gane  ? 
Winna  ye  be  gaein'  awa',  to  write  bulks,  an'  gar  fowk 
fin'  oot  what's  the  maitter  wi'  them  ?  " 

"  I  dinna  ken  what  I'm  gaein'  to  du,"  answered 
Cosmo.  "But  for  writin'  bulks,  I  could  do  that 
better  at  hame  nor  ony  ither  gait,  wi'  a'thing  min'in' 
me  o'  my  father,  an'  you  nearhan'  to  gie  me  coonsel." 

*'  I  hae  aye  been  yours  to  comman',  Cosmo,"  replied 
Aggie,  looking  down  for  one  moment,  then  imme- 
diately up  again  in  his  face. 

"  An'  ye're  no  angert  wi'  me,  Aggie  ? " 

''  Angert ."'  repeated  Aggie,  and  looked  at  him  with 
a  glow  angelic  in  her  honest,  handsome  face,  and  her 
eyes  as  true  as  the  heavens.      "  It  was  only  'at  ye 


696  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

didna  ken  what  ye  war  aboot,  an'  bein'  sae  muckle 
yoonger  nor  mysel',  I  was  b'un'  to  tak  care  o'  ye ;  for 
a  wuman  as  weel's  a  man  maun  be  her  brither's 
keeper.     Ye  see  yersel'  I  was  richt ! " 

"Ay  was  ye,  Aggie,"  answered  Cosmo,  ashamed 
and  almost  vexed  at  having  to  make  the  confession. 

He  did  not  see  the  heave  of  Aggie's  bosom,  nor 
how  she  held  back  and  broke  into  nothing  the  sigh 
that  would  have  followed. 

"But,"  she  resumed,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "a' 
lasses  michtna  ken  sae  weel  what  was  fittin'  them, 
nor  care  sae  muckle  what  was  guid  for  you  ;  naebody 
livin'  can  ken  ye  as  I  du  !  an'  gien  ye  war  to  lat  a 
lass  think  ye  cared  aboot  her  —  it  micht  be  but  as  a 
freen',  but  she  micht  be  sae  ta'en'  wi'  ye  —  'at  — 'at 
maybe  she  micht  gar  ye  think  'at  hoo  she  cudna  live 
wantin'  ye — an'  syne  what  ye  du  than,  Cosmo  ?  " 

It  was  a  situation  in  which  Cosmo  had  never  imag- 
ined himself,  and  he  looked  at  Aggie  a  little  sur- 
prised. 

"  I  dinna  freely  un'erstan'  ye,"  he  said. 

"  Na,  I  reckon  no  !  Hoo  sud  ye  !  Ye're  jist  ower 
semple  for  this  warl',  Cosmo  !  But  I'll  put  it  plainer  : 
—  what  wad  ye  du  gien  a  lass  was  to  fa'  a  greitin', 
an'  a  wailin',  an'  fling  hersel'  i'  yer.  airms,  an'  mak  as 
gien  she  wad  dee  .'* — what  wad  ye  du  wi'  her,  Cosmo  ? " 

"  'Deed  I  dinna  ken,"  replied  Cosmo  with  some 
embarrassment.     "  What  wad  ye  hae  me  du,  Aggie .?  '* 

"  I  wad  hae  ye  set  her  doon  whaur  ye  stude,  gien 
upo'  the  ro'd,  than  upo'  the  dyke,  gien  i'  the  hoose, 
than  upo'  the  nearest  chair,  and  tak  to  yer  legs  an' 
rin.     Bide  na  to  tak  yer  bonnet,-  but  rin  an'  rin  till 


THE    THIRD    HARVEST.  697 

ye're  better  nor  sure  she  can  never  win  up  wi'  ye. 
An'  specially  gien  the  name  o'  the  lass  sud  begin 
wi'  an'  E  an'  gang  on  till  an  /,  I  wad  hae  ye  rin  as 
gien  the  auld  captain  was  efter  ye." 

"  I  hae  had  sma'  occasion,"  said  Cosmo,  "  to  rin 
fra  himr 

And  therewith,  partly  to  change  the  subject,  for  he 
now  understood  Aggie,  and  did  not  feel  it  right  to 
talk  about  any  girl  as  if  she  could  behave  in  the 
manner  supposed,  partly  because  he  had  long  desired 
an  opportunity  of  telling  her,  he  began,  and  gave  her 
the  whole  history  of  the  discovery  of  the  diamonds, 
omitting  nothing,  even  where  the  tale  concerned 
Lady  Joan.  Before  he  got  to  the  end  of  it,  they 
were  at  the  place  where  the  man  was  waiting  with 
his  horse,  and  as  that  was  the  place  where  Aggie  had 
to  turn  off  to  go  to  Muir  o'  Warlock,  there  they 
parted. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

A  DUET,    TRIO,    AND     QUARTET. 

The  next  day  things  went  much  the  same,  only 
that  Elsie  was  not  in  the  field.  Cosmo,  who  had 
been  thinking  much  over  what  Aggie  had  said,  and 
was  not  flattered  that  she  should  take  him  for  the 
goose  he  did  not  know  himself  to  be,  could  hardly 
wait  for  the  evening  to  have  another  talk  with 
her. 

"  Aggie,"  he  said,  as  he  overtook  her  in  a  hollow 
not  many  yards  from  the  verge  of  the  farm,  "  I  dinna 
like  ye  to  think  me  sic  a  gowk !  What  gars  ye  sup- 
pose a  lass  could  hae  her  wuU  o'  me  in  sic  a  w'y  's 
you  ?  No  'at  I  believe  ony  lass  wad  behave  like  that ! 
It's  no  like  yersel'  to  fancy  sae  ill  o'  yer  ain  kin' !  I'm 
sure  ye  didna  discover  thae  things  i'  yerain  hert! 
There's  nae  sic  a  lass." 

"What  maitter  whether  there  be  sic  a  lass  or  no, 
sae  lang  as  gien  there  was  ane,  she  wad  be  ower 
muckle  for  ye .?  " 

"  That's  ower  again  what  I'm  compleenin'  o ' !  an* 
698 


A   DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  699 

gien  it  war  on3-body  but  yersel'  'at  has  a  richt,  I  wad 
be  angry,  Aggie." 

"  Cosmo,"  said  Agnes  solemnly,  "  ye're  ower  saft- 
hertit  to  the  women-f owk.  I  do  believe  —  an'  I  tell 
ye't  again  in  as  mony  words — ye  wad  merry  onylass 
raither  nor  see  her  in  trible  on  your  accoont." 

''Ance  mair,  Aggie,  what  gies  ye  a  richt  to  think 
sae  ill  o'  me  ?  "  demanded  Cosmo. 
"  Jist  the  w'y  ye  behaved  to  mysel'." 
"  Ye  never  tellt  me  ye  couldna  du  wantin'  me  !  " 
*'  I  houp  no,  for  it  wadna  hae  been  true.     I  can  du 
wantin'  ye  weel  eneuch.     But  ye  allooed  ye  wasna 
richt !  " 

"  Ay  —  it  was  a  presumption." 
"  Ay  !  but  what  made  it  a  presumption  ? " 
Cosmo  could  not  bear  to  say  plainly  to  the  girl  he 
loved  so  much,  that  he  had  not  loved  her   so  as  to 
have  a  right  to  ask  her  to  marry  him.     He  hesitated. 
"  Ye  didna  loe  me  eneuch,"  said  Aggie,  looking  up 
in  his  face. 

"  Aggie,"  returned  Cosmo,  "  I'm  ready  to  merry  ye 
the  morn  gien  ye'll  hae  me  !  " 

"  There  noo  !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  in  a  sort  of  pro- 
voked triumph,  "  didna  I  tell  ye  !  There  ye  are,  duin' 
't  a'  ower  again  !  Wasna  I  richt  ?  Ye're  fit  to  tak 
care  o' onybody  but  yersel' — an'  the  lass 'at  wad 
fain  hae  ye  !  Eh,  but  sair  ye  need  a  sensible  mitherly 
body  like  mysel'  to  luik  efter  ye !  " 

"Tak  nie,  than,  an'  luik  efter  me  at  yer  wull, 
Aggie  ;  I  mean  what  I  say !  "  persisted  Cosrno,  be- 
wildered with  embarrassment  and  a  momentary  stu- 
pidity. 


WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 


"  Ance  mair,  Cosmo,  dinna  be  a  gowk,"  said  Agnes 
with  severity.  "Ye  loe  me  o-wer  little,  an'  I  loe  you 
ower  muckle  for  that." 

"  Ye're  no  angry  at  me,  Aggie  ? "  said  Cosmo, 
almost  timidly. 

"  Angry  at  ye,  my  bonny  lad  ! "  cried  Aggie,  and 
looking  up  with  a  world  of  tenderness  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  divine  glow  of  affection,  for  hers  was  the  love 
so  sure  of  itself  that  it  maketh  not  ashamed,  she 
threw  her  two  strong,  shapely  honest  arms  round  his 
neck ;  he  bent  his  head,  she  kissed  him  heartily  on 
the  mouth,  and  burst  into  tears.  Surely  but  for  that 
other  love  that  lay  patient  and  hopeless  in  the  depth 
of  Cosmo's  heart,  he  would  now  have  loved  Aggie  in 
a  way  to  satisfy  her,  and  to  justify  him  in  saying  he 
loved  her  !  And  to  that  it  might  have  come  ip  time, 
but  where  is  the  use  of  saying  what  might  have  been, 
when  all  things  are  ever  moving  towards  the  highest 
and  best  for  the  individual  as  well  as  for  the  uni- 
verse !  —  not  the  less  that  hell  may  be  the  only  path 
to  it  for  some  —  the  hell  of  an  absolute  self-loathing. 

Just  at  that  moment,  who  should  appear  on  the 
top  of  a  broken  mound  of  the  moorland,  where  she 
stood  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun,  but  Elsie,  neatly 
dressed,  glowing  and  handsome !  A  moment  she 
stood,  then  descended,  a  dark  scorn  shadowing  in 
her  eyes,  and  a  smile  on  her  mouth  showing  the 
whitest  of  teeth. 

"  Mr.  Warlock,"  she  said,  and  took  no  notice  of 
his  humble  companion,  "  my  father  sent  me  after  you 
in  a  hurry  as  you  may  see,"  —  and  she  heaved  a  deep 
breath  —  "  to  say  he  doesn't  think  the  bear  o'  the 


A   DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  70I 

Gowan  Brae,  'ill  be  fit  for  cutting  this  two  days,  an* 
they'll  gang  to  the  corn  upo'  the  heuch  instead.  He 
was  going  to  tell  you  himself,  but  ye  was  in  such  a 
hurry  I  " 

"I'm  muckle  obleeged  to  ye.  Miss  Elsie,"  replied 
Cosmo.     "  It'll  save  me  a  half-mile  i'  the  mornin'." 

"  An'  my  father  says,"  resumed  Elsie,  addressing 
Agnes,  "  yer  wark's  no  worth  yer  wages." 

Aggie  turned  upon  her  with  flashing  eyes  and 
glowing  face. 

"  I  dinna  believe  ye,  Miss  Elsie,"  she  said.  "  I 
dinna  believe  yer  father  said  ever  sic  a  word.  He 
kens  my  wark's  worth  my  wages  whatever  he  likes  to 
set  me  til.  Mair  by  token  he  wad  hae  tellt  me  him- 
sel' !     I  s'  jist  gang  straucht  back  an'  speir." 

She  turned,  evidently  in  thorough  earnest,  and  set 
oil  at  a  rapid  pace  back  towards  the  house.  Cosmo 
glanced  at  Elsie.  She  had  turned  white  —  with  the 
whiteness  of  fear,  not  of  wrath.  She  had  not  ex- 
pected such  action  on  the  part  of  Aggie.  She  would 
be  at  once  found  out !  Her  father  was  a  man  terri- 
ble in  his  anger,  and  her  conscience  told  her  he 
would  be  angry  indeed,  angrier  than  she  had  ever 
seen  him  !  She  stood  like  a  statue,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  retreating  form  of  the  indignant  Agnes,  who 
reached  the  top  of  the  rising  ground,  and  was  begiii- 
ning  to  disappear,  before  the  spell  of  her  terror  gave 
way.  She  turned  with  clasped  hands  to  Cosmo,  and 
murmured,  her  white  lips  hardly  able  to  fashion  the 
words, 

"Mr.  Warlock,  for  God's  sake,  cry  her  back. 
Dinna  lat  her  gang  to  my  father." 


702  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"  Was  the  thing  ye  said  no  true  ?  "   asked  Cosmo. 

"  Weel,"  fajtered  Elsie,  searching  inside  for  some 
escape  from  admission,  "maybe  he  didna  jist  say  the 
verra  words,  —  " 

"  Aggie  maun  gang,"  interrupted  Cosmo.  "  She 
mamma  lat  it  pass." 

"  It  was  a  lee  !     It  was  a  lee  !  "  gasped  Elsie. 

Cosmo  ran,  and  from  the  top  of  the  rise  called 
aloud, 

"  Aggie  !  Aggie  !  come  back." 

Beyond  her  he  saw  another  country  girl  approach- 
ing, but  took  little  heed  of  her,  Aggie  turned  at  his 
call,  and  came  to  him  quickly. 

"  She  confesses  it's  a  lee,  Aggie,"  he  said. 

"  She  wadna,  gien  she  hadna  seen  I  was  gaein' 
straucht  til  her  father ! "  returned  Agnes. 

"  I  daursay ;  but  God  only,  kens  hoo  to  mak  the 
true  differ  'atween  what  we  du  o'  oorsel's,  an'  what 
we're  gart.  We  maun  hae  mercy,  an'  i'  the  mean- 
time she's  ashamed  eneuch.  At  least  she  has  the 
luik  o'  't." 

"  It's  ae  thing  to  be  ashamed  'cause  ye  hae  dune 
wrang,  an'  anither  to  be  ashamed  'cause  ye're  fun' 
oot ! " 

"  Ay ;  but  there  compassion  comes  in  to  fill  up ; 
an'  whan  ye  treat  a  body  wi'  generosity,  the  hert 
wauks  up  to  be  worthy  o'  't." 

"  Cosmo,  ye  ken  maist  aboot  the  guid  in  fowk,  an' 
I  ken  maist  aboot  the  ill,"  said  Aggie. 

Here  the  young  woman  who  had  been  nearing  them 
scarce  observed  while  they  talked,  came  up,  and  they 
turning  to  go  back  to   Elsie,  where  she  still   stood 


A    DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  703 

motionless,  followed  them  at  her  own  pace  behind. 

"  I  beg  yer  pardon,  Aggie,"  said  Elsie,  holding  out 
her  hand.  "  I  was  ill-natert,  an'  said  the  thing  wasna 
true.  My  father  says  there  isna  a  better  gatherer  i' 
the  countr}^side  nor  yersel'."  Aggie  took  her  offered 
hand  and  said, 

"  Lat  by-ganes  be  by-ganes.  Be  true  to  me  an'  I'll 
be  true  to  you.     An'  I  winna  lee  whether  or  no." 

Here  the  stranger  joined  them.  She  was  a  young 
woman  in  the  garb  of  a  peasant,  but  with  something 
about  her  not  belonging  to  the  peasant.  To  the  first 
glance  she  was  more  like  a  superior  servant  out  for  a 
holiday,  but  a  second  glance  was  bewildering.  She 
stopped  with  a  half  timid  but  quiet  look,  then  dropped 
her  eyes  with  a  flush. 

"Will  you  please  tell  me  if  I  am  on  the  way  to 
Castle  Warlock  ? "  she  said,  with  a  quiver  about  her 
mouth  which  made  her  like  a  child  trying  not  to  smile. 

Cosmo  had  been  gazing  at  her  :  she  reminded  him 
very  strangely  of  Joan  ;  but  the  moment  he  heard  her 
voice,  which  was  as  different  from  that  of  a  Scotch 
peasant  as  Tennyson's  verse  is  from  that  of  Burns,  he 
gave  a  cry,  and  was  on  his  knees  before  her. 

"Joan  !"  he  gasped,  and  seizing  her  hand,  drew  it 
to  his  lips,  and  held  it  there. 

She  made  no  sound  or^  movement.  Her  colour 
went  and  came.  Her  head  drooped.  She  would 
have  fallen,  but  Cosmo  received  her,  and  rising  with 
her,  as  one  might  with  a  child  in  his  arms,  turned,  and 
began  to  walk  swiftly  homeward. 

Aggie  had  a  short  fierce  struggle  with  her  rising 
heart,  then  turned  to  Elsie,  and  said  quietly, 


704         WARLOCK  O  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  Ye  see  we're  no  wantit!" 

*'  I  see,"  returned  Elsie.  "  But  eh !  she's  a  puir 
cratur." 

"  No  sae  puir ! "  answered  Aggie.  "  Wad  ye  dress 
up  like  a  gran'  leddy  to  gang  efter  yer  yoong  man  ? " 

"  Ay  wad  I  —  fest  eneuch  !  "  answered  Elsie  with 
scorn. 

Aggie  saw  her  mistake. 

"  Did  ye  tak  notice  o'  her  han's  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No,  I  didna." 

"  Ye  never  saw  sic  han's !  Did  ye  tak  notice  o'  her 
feet  ? " 

"No,  I  didna." 

"  Ye  never  saw  sic  feet !  Yon  's  ane  'at  canna 
gather,  nor  stook,  nor  bin',  but  she's  bonny  a'  throu', 
an'  her  v'ice  is  a  sang,  an'  she'll  gang  throu'  fire  an' 
watter  ohn  blinkit  for  her  love's  sake.  Yon's  the  lass 
for  oor  laird  !  The  like  o'  you  an'  me  sud  trible  heid 
nor  hert  aboot  the  likes  o'  him.^'' 

"  Speyk  for  yersel',  lass,"  said  Elsie. 

"I  tellt  ye,"  returned  Aggie,  quietly  but  with  some- 
thing like  scorn,  "  'at  gien  ye  wad  be  true  to  me,  I 
wad  be  true  to  you;  but  gie  yersel'  airs,  an'  I  say  guid 
nicht,  an'  gang  efter  my  fowk." 

She  turned  and  departed,  leaving  Elsie  more  an- 
noyed than  repentant :  it  may  take  a  whole  life  to 
render  a  person  capable  of  shame,  not  to  say  sorrow, 
for  the  meanestithing  of  many  he  has  done. 

And  now,  Aggie's  heart  lying  stone-like  within  her 
as  she  followed  Cosmo  with  his  treasure,  her  brain 
was  alive  and  active  for  his  sake.  Joan  was  herself 
again,  Cosmo  had  set  her  down,  and  they  were  walk- 


A   DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  JC^ 

ing  side  by  side.  "What  are  they  going  to  do?" 
thought  Aggie.  "  Are  they  going  straight  home  to- 
gether? Why  does  she  come  now  the  old  laird  is 
gone?"  Such  and  many  other  questions  she  kept 
asking  herself  in  her  carefulness  over  Cosmo. 

They  passed  the  turning  Aggie  would  have  taken 
to  go  home ;  she  passed  it  too,  following  them 
steadily.  —  That  old  Grizzle  was  no  good  !  She  must 
go  home  with  them  herself !  If  the  reason  for  which 
she  left  the  castle  was  a  wise  one,  she  must  now,  fot 
the  same  reason,  go  bacb  to  it !  Those  two  must  not 
be  there  with  nobody  to  make  them  feel  comfortable 
and  taken  care  of!  They  must  not  be  left  to  feel 
awkward  together !  She  must  be  a  human  atmos- 
phere about  them,  to  shield  them,  and  make  home  for 
them !  Love  itself  may  be  too  lonely.  It  needs  some 
reflection  of  its  too  lavish  radiation.  —  This  was  prac- 
tically though  not  altogether  in  form  what  Agnes 
thought. 

In  the  meantime,  the  first  whelming  joy-wave  having 
retired,  and  life  and  thought  resumed  their  operations, 
they  had  begun  to  talk. 

"Where  have  you  come  from?"  asked  Cosmo. 

"  From  Cairntod,  the  place  I  came  from  that  wild 
winter  night,"  answered  Joan. 

"  But  you  are  ....  when  were  you  ....  how 
long  ....  have  you  been  married  ? " 

''Married!^'  echoed  Joan.  "Cosmo,  how  could 
you  ! " 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  wild  and  frightened. 

"  Well,  you  never  wrote  !  and  —  " 

**  It  was  you  never  wrote  ! " 


7o6  WARLOCK    O'    GLENWARLOCK. 

"/did  not,  but  my  father  did,  and  got  no  answer.'* 

"  I  wrote  again  and  again,  and  begged iox  an  answer, 
but  none  came.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  way  I 
dreamed  about  you,  I  don't  know  what  would  have 
become  of  me  !  " 

"The  devil  has  been  at  old  tricks,  Joan  !  " 

"  Doubtless  —  and  I  fear  I  have  hardly  to  discover 
his  agent." 

"  And  Mr.  Jermyn  ?  "  said  Cosmo,  with  a  look  half 
shy,  half  fearful,  as  if  after  all  some  bolt  must  be 
about  to  fall. 

"  I  can  tell  you  very  little  about  him.  I  have 
scarcely  seen  him  since  he  brought  me  the  money." 

"  Then  he  didn't  .....?" 

"  Well,  what  didn't  he  1 " 

"  I  have  no  right  to  ask." 

"Ask  me  anythmg.'^ 

"  Didn't  he  ask  you  to  marry  him?  " 

Joan  laughed. 

"  I  had  begun  to  be  afraid  he  had  something  of  the 
kind  in  his  head,  when  all  at  once  I  saw  no  more  of 
him." 

"  How  was  that  ? " 

"  I  can  only  guess :  he  may  have  spoken  to  my 
brother,  and  that  was  enough." 

"  Didn't  you  miss  him  ?  " 

"  Life  was  a  little  duller." 

"  If  he  had  asked  you  to  marry  him,  Joan  ?  " 

"Well?" 

"  Would  you  ?  " 

"Cosmo!" 

"  You  told  me  I  might  ask  you  anything ! " 


A    DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  707 

She  Stood,  turned  to  the  roadside,  and  sat  down  on 
the  low  earth-dyke.     Her  face  was  white. 

"Joan  !  Joan!  "  cried  Cosmo,  darting  to  her  side; 
"what  is  it,  Joan?" 

"  Nothing ;  only  a  little  faintness.  I  have  walked 
a  long  way  and  am  getting  tired." 

"  What  a  brute  I  am ! "  said  Cosmo,  "  to  let  you 
walk  !    I  will  carry  you  again." 

"  Indeed  you  will  not ! "  she  answered,  moving  a 
little  from  him. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  ride  on  a  man's  sad- 
dle ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  I  could  well  enough  if  I  were  not 
tired.     But  let  me  be  quiet  a  little." 

They  were  very  near  the  place  where  Cosmo's 
horse  must  be  waiting  him.  He  ran  to  take  him  and 
send  the  groom  home  with  a  message. 

To  Joan  it  was  a  terrible  moment.  Had  she, 
most  frightful  of  thoughts !  been  acting  on  a  holy 
faith  that  yet  had  no  foundation  ?  She  had  come  to 
a  man  who  asked  her  whether  she  would  not  have 
married  his  friend !  She  had  taken  so  much  for 
understood  that  had  not  been  understood ! 

When  Joan  sat  down  Agnes  stopped  —  a  good  way 
off :  till  the  moment  of  service  arrived  she  would  be 
nothing.  Several  times  she  started  to  run  to  her,  for 
she  feared  something  had  gone  wrong,  but  checked 
herself  lest  she  should  cause  more  mischief  by  inter- 
fering. When  she  saw  her  sink  sideways  on  the 
dyke,  she  did  run,  but  seeing  Cosmo  hurrying  back 
to  her,  stopped  again. 

Before  Cosmo  reached  her  Joan  had  sat  up.     The 


7o8         WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

same  faith,  or  perhaps  rather  hope,  which  had  taken 
shape  in  her  dreams,  now  woke  to  meet  the  necessi- 
ty of  the  hour.  She  rose  as  Cosmo  came  near,  say- 
ing she  felt  better  now,  and  let  him  put  her  on  the 
horse. 

But  now  Joan  was  determined  to  face  the  worst, 
to  learn  her  position  and  know  what  she  must  do. 

"  Has  the  day  not  come  yet,  Cosmo  ? "  she  said. 
"  Cannot  you  now  tell  me  why  you  left  me  so  sudden- 
ly?" 

"  It  may  come  with  your  answer  to  the  question  I 
put  to  you,"  replied  Cosmo. 

"You  are  cruel,  Cosmo  !" 

"  Am  I  ?    How  }   I  do  not  understand." 

This  was  worse  and  worse,  and  Joan  grew  rather 
more  than  almost  angry.  It  is  so  horrid  when  the 
man  you  love  wz//  be  stupid  !  She  turned  her  face 
away,  and  was  silent.  A  man  must  sometimes  take 
his  life  in  his  hand,  and  at  the  risk  of  even  unpar- 
donable presumption,  suppose  a  thing  yielded,  that 
he  may  know  whether  it  be  or  not.  But  Cosmo 
was  something  of  the  innocent  Aggie  took  him  for. 

"  Joan,  I  don't  see  how  I  am  wrong,  after  the  per- 
mission you  gave  me,"  persisted  he,  too  modest. 
"  Agnes  would  have  answered  me  straight  out." 

He  forgot. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  What  have  you  ever 
asked  her  ? " 

Joan,  for  one  who  refused  an  answer,  was  toler- 
ably exacting  in  her  questions.  And  as  she  spoke 
she  moved  involuntarily  a  step  farther  from  him. 

"  I  asked  her  to  marry  me,"  replied  Cosmo. 


A    DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  709 

"  You  asked  her  to  marry  you  I " 

"  Yes,  but  she  wouldn't." 

"  Why  wouldn't  she .?  " 

Joan's  face  was  now  red  as  fire,  and  she  was 
biting  her  lip  hard. 

"  She  had  more  reasons  against  it  than  one.  Oh, 
Joan,  she  is  so  good  !  " 

"  And  you  are  going  to  marry  her  t  " 

Instead  of  answering  her  question,  Cosmo  turned 
and  called  to  Agnes,  some  thirty  yards  behind  them : 

"Come  here,  Aggie." 

Agnes  came  quickly. 

"  Tell  Lady  Joan,"  he  said,  "  what  for  ye  wadna 
merry  me." 

"  'Deed,  my  lady,"  said  Agnes,  her  face  also  like 
a  setting  sun,  "ye  may  believe  onything  he  tells  ye, 
jist  as  gien  it  war  gospel.  He  disna  ken  hoo  to 
mak  a  lee." 

"  I  know  that  as  well  as  you,"  replied  Lady  Joan. 

"  Na,  ye  canna  du  that,  'cause  ye  haena  kent  him 
sae  lang." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  why  you  would  not  marry  him  .-* " 

"  For  ae  thing,  'cause  he  likit  you  better  nor  me, 
only  he  thoucht  ye  was  merried,  an'  he  didna  like 
lattin'  me  gang  frae  the  hoose." 

"  Thank  you,  Agnes,"  said  Joan,  with  a  smile 
nothing  less  than  heavenly.     "  He  was  so  obstinate ! " 

And  with  that  she  slipped  from  the  saddle,  threw 
her  arms  round  Aggie's  neck,  and  kissed  her. 

Aggie  returned  her  embrace  with  simple  truth, 
then  drawing  gently  away,  said,  putting  her  hand 
before  her  eyes  as  if  she  found  the  sun  too  strong, 


7IO 


WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 


"  It's  verra  weel  for  you,  my  lady ;  but  it's  some 
sair  upo'  me;  for  I  tellt  him  he  sudna  merry  his 
mither,  an'  ye're  full  as  auld  as  I  am." 

Joan  gave  a  sigh. 

"I  am  a  year  older,  I  believe,"  she  answered,  " but 
I  cannot  help  it.  Nor  would  I  if  I  could,  for  three 
years  ago  I  was  still  less  worthy  of  him  than  I  am 
now ;   and  after  all  it  is  but  a  trifle." 

"  Na,  my  leddy,  it's  no  a  trifle,  only  some  fowk 
carry  their  years  better  nor  ithers." 

Here  Cosmo  set  Joan  up  again,  and  a  full  explana- 
tion followed  between  them,  neither  thinking  of  sup- 
pression because  of  Aggie's  presence.  She  would  in- 
deed have  fallen  behind  again,  but  Joan  would  not  let 
her,  so  she  walked  side  by  side  with  them,  and  amongst 
the  rest  of  the  story  heard  Cosmo  tell  how  he  had 
yielded  Joan  because  poor  Jermyn  loved  her.  Agnes 
both  laughed  and  cried  as  she  listened,  and  when 
Cosmo  ceased,  threw  her  arms  once  more  around 
him,  saying,  "  Cosmo,  ye're  worth  it  a' ! "  then 
releasing  him,  turned  to  Joan  and  said, 

"  My  lady,  I  dinna  grudge  him  to  ye  a  bit.  Noo 
'at  he's  yours,  an'  a'  's  come  roon'  as  it  sud,  I'll  be 
mysel'  again  —  an'  that  ye'll  see !  But  ye'll  mak 
allooance,  my  lady;  for  ye  hae  a  true  hert,  an' 
maim  ken  'at  whan  a  wuman  sees  a  man  beirin' 
a'thing  as  gien  it  was  naething,  'maist  like  a  God,  no 
kennin'  he's  duin'  onything  by  or'nar,'  she  can  no 
more  help  loein'  him  nor  the  mither  'at  bore  her,  or 
the  God  'at  made  her.  An'  mair,  my  lady,  I  mean  to 
loe  him  yet ;  but,  as  them  'at  God  has  j'ined  man  nor 
wuman  maunna  sun'er,  Iwinna  pairt  ye  even   in  my 


A    DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  71I 

min' ;  whan  I  think  o'  the  tane,  it'll  be  to  think  o'  the 
tither,  an'  the  love  'at  gangs  to  him  'ill  aye  rin  ower 
upo'  you  —  forby  what  I  beir  ye  on  yer  ain  accoont. 
Noo  ye'll  gang  on  thegither  again,  an'  I'll  come 
ahin'." 

It  was  now  to  Aggie  as  ii  they  were  all  dead  and  in 
the  blessed  world  together,  only  she  had  brought  with 
her  an  ache  which  it  would  need  time  to  tune.  All 
pain  is  discord. 

"  Ye  see,  my  lady,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  aside 
and  sat  down  on  the  bordering  turf,  "  I  hae  been  a 
mither  til  'im  !  " 

Who  will  care  to  hear  further  explanation !  —  how 
Joan  went  to  visit  distant  relatives  who  had  all  at 
once  begun  to  take  notice  of  her ;  how  she  had  come 
with  them,  more  gladly  than  they  knew,  on  a  visit  to 
Cairntod ;  and  how  such  a  longing  seized  her  there 
that,  careless  of  consequences,  she  donned  a  peasant's 
dress  and  'set  out  for  Castle  Warlock ;  how  she  had 
lost  her  way,  and  was  growing  very  uneasy  when  sud- 
denly she  saw  Cosmo  before  her ! 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  now,  Cosmo }  "  she  said. 
"  What  account  of  myself  can  I  give  my  people  ? " 

"  You  can  tell  them  you  met  an  old  lover,  and  find- 
ing him  now  a  rich  man,  like  a  prudent  woman,  con- 
sented at  once  to  marry  him." 

"  I  must  not  tell  a  story." 

"  Pray  who  asks  you  to  tell  a  story  ? " 

"  You  do,  telling  me  to  say  I  have  a  rich  lover." 

"I  do  not.     I  am  rich." 

"Not  in  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  money." 


712  WARLOCK  O'  GLEN  WARLOCK. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before  ?  " 

"  I  forgot.  How  could  I  think  of  riches  with  you 
filling  up  all  the  thinking-place  ! " 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  to-night  ? " 

"  To-night .?  —  oh  !—  I  hadn't  thought  of  that !  — 
We'll  ask  Aggie." 

So  Aggie  was  once  more  called,  and  consulted. 
She  thought  for  a  minute,  then  said,  — 

"  Cosmo,  as  sune's  ye're  hame,  ye'll  sen'  yer  man 
straucht  awa'  upo'  the  horse  to  lat  my  lady's  fowk 
ken.  She  better  write  them  a  bit  letter,  an'  tell  them 
she's  fa'en  in  wi'  an  auld  acquaintance,  a  lass  ca'd 
Agnes  Gracie,  a  dacent  yoong  wuman,  an'  haein'  lost 
her  ro'd  an'  bein'  unco  tired,  she's  gaein'  hame  wi' 
her  to  sleep  ;  an'  the  laird  o'  Glenwarlock  was  sae 
kin'  /s  to  sen'  his  man  upo'  his  horse  to  cairry  the 
letter.  That  w'y  there'll  be  nae  lees  tellt,  an'  no 
ower  muckle  o'  the  trowth." 

Cosmo  began  to  criticise,  but  Joan  insisted  it  should 
be  as  Aggie  said. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  castle.  Grizzle  was  not  a 
little  scandalized  to  see  her  young  roaster  with  a 
country  lass  on  his  horse,  and  making  so  much  of 
her.  But  when  she  came  to  understand  who  she  was, 
and  that  she  had  dressed  up  to  get  the  easier  to 
Castle  Warlock  she  was  filled  with  approbation  even 
to  delight. 

"  Eh,  but  ye're  a  lass  to  mak  a  man  prood !  I 
cudna  hae  dune  better  mysel'  gien  I  had  been  a  gran' 
lady  wi'  a'  the  wits  o'  a  puir  wife  !  Sit  ye  doon,  my 
lady,  an'  be  richt  walcome  !  Eh,  but  ye're  bonny,  as 
ever  was  ony!  an'    eh,   but    ye're  steady   as  never 


A   DUET,    TRIO,    AND    QUARTET.  713 

was  leddy  !  May  the  Lord  bless  ye,  an'  the  laird  kiss 
ye!" 

This  outbreak  of  benediction  rather  confused 
Cosmo,  but  Joan  laughed  merrily,  being  happy  as 
a  child.  Aggie  turned  her  face  to  Grizzie  in  dread 
of  more  ;  but  the  true  improviser  seldom,  I  fancy, 
utters  more  than  six  lines.  They  had  supper,  and 
then  a  cart  came  rumbling  to  the  door,  half  full 
of  straw,  into  which  Joan  got  with  Aggie.  A  few 
things  the  latter  had  borrowed  of  Grizzie  to  help 
make  the  former  comfortable,  were  handed  in  and 
they  set  out  for  Muir  o'  Warlock.  In  the  morning 
Lady  Joan  declared  she  had  never  slept  better  than 
in  old  Grannie's  box-bed. 

They  were  married  almost  immediately,  and  nobody's 
leave  asked.  Cosmo  wrote  to  acquaint  Lord  Mer- 
gwain  with  the  event,  and  had  in  return,  from  his 
lordship's  secretary,  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
receipt  of  his  letter. 

Of  what  they  had  to  tell  each  other,  of  the  way 
they  lived,  of  how  blessed  they  were  even  when  not 
altogether  happy — of  these  matters  I  say  nothing,  leav- 
ing them  to  the  imagination  of  him  who  has  any,  while 
for  him  who  has  none  I  grudge  the  labour,  thinking 
too  he  would  very  likely  rather  hear  how  much  Cosmo 
got  for  his  diamonds,  and  whether,  if  Lord  Mergwain 
should  not  marry,  Cairncarque  will  come  to  Lady 
Joan.  But  such  things  even  he  is  capable  of  employ- 
ing his  fancy  upon,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  prevent 
him  from  doing  what  he  can. 

I  will  close  my  book  with  a  little  poem  that  Cosmo 
wrote  —  :^ot  tb. at  night,  but  soon  after.     The  poet  may, 


714  WARLOCK    O     GLENWARLOCK. 

in  the  height  of  joy,  give  out  an  extempore  flash  or 
two,  but  he  writes  no  poem  then.  The  joy  must  have 
begun  to  be  garnered,  before  the  soul  can  sing  about 
it.  How  we  shall  sing  when  we  absolutely  believe 
that  our  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God! 
Here  is  my  spiritual  colophon. 

All  things  are  shadows  of  thee,  Lord ; 

The  sun  himself  is  but  a  shade  ; 
My  soul  is  but  the  shadow  of  thy  word, 

A  candle  sun-bedayed ! 

Diamonds  are  shadows  of  the  sun  ; 

They  drink  his  rays  and  show  a  spark : 
My  soul  some  gleams  of  thy  great  shine  hath  won, 

And  round  me  slays  the  dark. 

All  knowledge  is  but  broken  shades  — 

In  gulfs  of  dark  a  wandering  horde  : 
Together  rush  the  parted  glory-grades  — 

And  lo,  thy  garment,  Lord  ! 

My  soul,  the  shadow,  still  is  light, 

Because  the  shadow  falls  from  thee ; 
I  turn,  dull  candle,  to  the  centre  bright, 

And  home  flit  shadowy. 

Shine,  shine ;  make  me  thy  shadow  still  — 
The  brighter  still  the  more  thy  shade ; 

My  motion  be  thy  lovely  moveless  will  1 
My  darkness,  light  delayed  ! 


(THB  END.) 


\ 


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RK.  en.     JUN  1  2  1986 


RECEWzD  BY 


AUG 


\a  ^* 


1985 


CmCUIATlDN  DEPT. 


MAY1519e& 


(Xhu.  f 


JITt^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEN 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  60m,  1/83  BERKELEY,  CA  94720 

(g)! 


GENERAL  LIBRABY-U.C.  BERKELEY 

ill 


Boooaaovbs 


984412 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


